


The Thirteenth Clan

by Dryadenah



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8287694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryadenah/pseuds/Dryadenah
Summary: Clarke has been fending for herself in the wilderness for weeks; she wants to escape her demons and responsibilities, but she can't run away forever. Especially when her people's survival is threatened once again and a certain Commander asks for her help.Ever since the events of Mount Weather, Lexa has been struggling to maintain a fragile peace between her Coalition and Skaikru. When the situation escalates and her list of enemies grows longer, she has no choice but to seek help from the woman she's hurt so badly in the past.





	1. Chapter 1

_How many days has it been since they landed?_ Clarke furrows her brow, trying to count, to get even a vague idea but then gives up. It wouldn't mean anything anyway, it feels like a lifetime ago. So much has changed since the moment they opened the drop ship door, since they all walked out of it, filled with excitement at the view that greeted them. That feeling of freedom, away from the Ark, the Chancellor, the oppressive rules, the confinement of life on a ship, all the things that had imprisoned them way before actually being in jail, the blind hope that this bright, vibrant, green world was theirs. So much has changed since then.

_She_ has changed ...

Assessing her current situation Clarke lets out a snort “ right, now that's an understatement ...”.

She's clothed in an assortment of her drop ship uniform and pieces of leather and furs acquired at the merchant's hut she found weeks ago. Her hair, colored in a dark shade of red with the pigments she could lay her hands on is framing a dirt-smeared face she can't be bothered to wash off. Crouched in what she hopes is a good defensive position, she's holding in her hands a rudimentary spear, waiting as bait for the panther she had been tracking for hours before finally finding its hunting ground.

Clarke's never gone for such a big prey before, but she's hunted various animals in the last few weeks, since she left her people. Learning how to survive on her own; finding food, water, shelter had become a necessity.

In the beginning, it wasn't easy. Hunger and dehydration had quickly become issues, but no matter how much self-loathing she had in her for what she's done, giving up on life just never felt like an option, and she sure as hell wasn't going back to camp Jaha because she couldn't manage on her own. Clarke would only return when she felt ready to face her people again.

When she could look at them without having images of bodies falling to the ground, faces distorted by agony, flashing through her mind. When the mere thought of being put in a position where she might have to decide on someone's fate again won't make her chest tighten around her lungs, leaving her sucking in air erratically. When she doesn't wake up at night screaming, crying or gasping or any combination of those after yet another nightmare, the most recurrent one being reliving the moment she walked into that dinning hall turned into a giant tomb, all silent but for the distant alarm ringing and Jasper's sobs.

_Focus Clarke!_ She chastises herself, wiping the memory from her brain with a quick shake of the head. How stupid can she be to allow herself to drift away with such a dangerous predator roaming so close? She overheard stories about that man-eating panther at the trading post and knows not to underestimate it.

Usually hunting helps her clear her head, forces her to concentrate only on the present, on simple acts and facts. Like searching for clues on the ground and vegetation to track her prey, walking carefully so as not to reveal her presence, controlling her breath, focusing on her aim.

Or in this case, being alert to any sign of the imminent attack. The slightest mistake could mean ending up with a 160-pound animal pinning her to the ground, its canine teeth piercing through her jugular. No time to dwell on the past when basic survival is involved.

Clarke forces her attention back on the task at hand, gripping more tightly the handle of her homemade spear, basically just a sturdy wooden stick she's split on one end to insert her knife in the crack before strapping it back together as best as she could. She is glad of the extra reach it provides. More distance between her and the dagger-like claws might come in handy.

She hears the panther from time to time, its paws breaking a small branch, its furry body grazing the foliage of one the many bushes of the area. It's obviously circling her, taking its time to gauge the situation, leaving Clarke with nothing else to do but wait.

Suddenly all wildlife around her grows silent, except for the rustling of a body rushing through grass and bushes. She aims the spear in that direction, rests its flat end on the ground, securing it by placing one foot behind it and tries to angle the other end to meet her attacker. The Panther plunges towards the crouching woman but is cut short when its chest impales on the knife at the end of the spear, its body going limp, but not before taking a swipe at the shoulder turned into the attack to support the spear. Clarke feels a sharp pain radiate through her shoulder before the animal falls on top of her.

As forest fauna resumes its usual buzzing and singing she pushes the dead body off of her with a groan then kneels beside the beautiful and imposing animal.“Yu gonplei ste odon” she utters respectfully, stroking its soft fur. The strong muscles she can feel under her hand are vivid proof of the deadliness of her defeated opponent, making her wonder if she hasn't become too reckless.

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ”. Clarke can hear Lexa's voice coldly delivering those words to Quint, just before they faced Pauna. That day had been a turning point in the relationship between the two women; it was the moment she had started to think about her as Lexa, not just the grounders “Commander”. They had faced death together, helped each other out, and shared a few quieter moments too. For the first time Lexa had relaxed a little in Clarke's presence, always guarded of course, but she had seemed more human, she even smiled.

A bond formed that day, a bond that had lead her to put too much trust in the grounder. Another image forces itself in her brain, Lexa coming down that slope with Emerson by her side at Mount Weather. Clarke had instantly felt that something was wrong, and when she had looked into the Commander's eyes, she had known just how bad it was. She was still in shock when came this dire moment, seeing the woman she'd grown to care about much more than she'd ever admit, much more than she should have, who she trusted completely, turn around and start walking away. Each of the Commander's steps had felt like a death sentence for her people; each one had sent a sharp needle into her heart.

“No! Don't go there!” Clarke admonishes herself, biting her bottom lip to fight the tears threatening to spill out and to punish herself. Anger is better than pain; she's angry at herself for letting thoughts of Lexa enter her mind. There's not much she can do about it at night when they come in dreams and nightmares, but there's no way she's going to let them in when she's awake. She has to focus back on the simple tasks that need to be done, like strapping her catch to the makeshift stretcher she's built.

Clarke can feel blood dripping along her spine. It's oozing out of lacerations on her back from the final attack the panther managed to launch when she lost control of the spear under the brutal impact. It could have been much worse though, she thinks, looking at the animal's canine teeth and dagger-like claws.

If it keeps bleeding she may ask Niylah to take a look at it, clean the wound for her. The blonde grounder has always been quite friendly, always ready to help, despite Clarke's cold attitude towards her. She remembers the first day she entered the little hut lost in the middle of the woods. If it hadn't been for the lone, grumpy but helpful hunter she had stumbled upon one day, who had told her about the trading post, she probably would never have found it. The slender, bearded man had even drawn her a map on the ground with a wooden stick because Clarke wasn't as familiar with the area as the hunter.

Those trades have not only significantly improved her living conditions and chances of surviving, they have also made her feel human again, after so many days surviving alone into the wilderness, solely focused on catching her next meal. With her limited knowledge and absence of equipment to preserve the food, Clarke's daily organization before finding the trading post was basic, to say the least. Hungry, hunt, cook, eat. As for the solitude, she doesn't mind it, she actually wants it, needs it, but those simple commercial interactions give her a momentary feeling of normality, in her otherwise chaotic world. Clarke had been reluctant to engage with the hunter who had helped her find the hut; she had seen a few people in the woods during her travels, and she would have avoided him like she had done the others if he hadn't appeared next to her out of thin air . Now she's glad of how things turned out; she'll have to thank that bearded man if she ever sees him again.

For now, she has to take the panther's body to the merchant's hut, and considering the size of it, it's not going to be an easy task but she knows the amount of food she'll get in exchange for such a valuable catch will make it worth the trouble.

* * *

 

The night has fallen hours ago when Clarke gets back to her camp composed of a fire pit surrounded by rocks, a small woodpile, and a tin trunk. She starts a fire, fuels it with a couple of logs, opens the trunk and draws a blanket out of it which she lays on the ground before rolling herself in it. When Clarke's back touches the ground, she groans in pain and turns to her side, falling asleep almost instantly, clearly exhausted.

A concerned look crosses the face of the woman sitting on a branch a few trees away; _she must have gotten hurt,_ Lexa thinks, her jaw clenching. She's had reports that Clarke was getting increasingly reckless, maybe becoming too sure of her skills, or perhaps tempting fate out of guilt, she wonders.

She reached the site Jared had showed her to be Clarke's current camp at sundown and had been waiting since then. The young woman's absence when she arrived had made it easier for Lexa to find a good observation point without being seen but she had become worried seeing the night go by with no sign of Clarke. When she had seen the now red headed Skaikru walk through the woods, she had breathed a soft sigh of relief.

Turning her head to the right she can discern Jared, his tall, slender body mingling with the branches and trunk of an old pine a few feet away, barely visible even for her who knows where to look. He's a fellow Trikru, a respected teacher among her kin, who's taught Lexa her people's skills when she was a child: travel through the trees, watch without being seen, kill without being seen...

When she had decided to have one of her men keeping an eye on Clarke from a distance he'd been the obvious choice for her, the best tracker and scout of her clan, and his loyalty is beyond question.

Lexa slightly shifts position, her joints begging for a reprieve. She didn't make any noise, but she can feel disapproval exude from her former instructor. “ _A Trikru can stay completely still in a tree for hours, until you can no longer tell the difference between living and thing,”_ she hears him say in her head, in the characteristically gruff way he did when he was teaching her and his other pupils. A grunt from him was all it took for them to try harder until they mastered the moves and positions well enough for their teacher to fold his arms in front of him before quietly pulling on his beard which they had learned to recognize as the sign that he was satisfied.

If circumstances didn't call for discretion, she's sure she would have gotten a grunt, Lexa thinks with a hint of a smile lifting up one corner of her mouth. Like all the other kids of her clan she had been intent on being worthy of being called a Trikru, of her heritage and she had done well enough to be designated as one of the promising ones. But since she's become Commander, and even as an initiate, she hadn't had much opportunity or even freedom to climb in trees and practice those skills so her body is no longer used to that kind of exertion.

It does feel good though to re-experience the Trikru's way of life, even just for one night. She has always liked the forest, maybe it's just in her blood, in her upbringing, or maybe she would have felt the same way even if she had been born in a different clan. The earthy smell of the woods, the way the light is dimmed just enough to take away the aggressiveness of the midday sun, without lessening the color vibrancy as the sun rays pass through foliage, the feel of the rough touch of bark on her hands, the life that can be heard and seen at any hours of the day and night. All of this always made her feel at peace.

Lexa's decision to catch a glimpse of Clarke before their impeding meeting had been a spur of the moment, one of the very few she's ever allowed herself. As her escort had started to set up the camp for the night not too far from Clarke's, all she could think about was seeing the blonde woman. She knew it would not have been a good time to begin their discussion, the day was almost over and they had a lot to talk about, she just wanted to see with her own eyes that Clarke was okay.

Going to Clarke's camp, taking the risk to be seen by the Skaikru woman, thus causing an untimely conversation, just to assuage her personal worries didn't feel right though. However, she had realized that as the Commander, assessing Clarke's living conditions for herself, getting an idea of her state of mind made sense too. She had planned to stay just long enough to do that, then return to her tent. But now that she's here, watching the sleeping form by the fire, a woman she's seen in her dreams and nightmares every night since Mount Weather but wasn't sure she would ever actually lay her eyes on again, Lexa can't bring herself to leave. And even after the earnest examination of a situation she always goes through when making a decision, she doesn't see a reason why she can't indulge herself by staying.

Unlike that night, at Mount Weather. Leaving Clarke and her people then had been the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, and the life of a Commander is filled with hard choices. Lexa's heart had forcefully rebelled against what felt so wrong on a personal level but her mind had stayed strong, she knew what she had to do. It was her responsibility, her duty to protect her people comes first, she kept telling herself, like a mantra, during those never ending minutes between the moment she saw Clarke standing at the base of the slope with a puzzled expression on her face, and the moment she left the area. Every step away had felt so heavy, each piercing through her heart, bringing tears to her eyes.

She knew Clarke wouldn't give up on her people inside the mountain, it just wasn't in her nature, and that could have cost her her life. Lexa was well aware of that when she managed to get a hopeful, yet worried _“may we meet again”_ out of her mouth despite the heavy lump in her throat. By accepting this deal with the Mountain men she knew she could have signed the death warrant of the woman she l...Lexa clenches her lips, breath in some air to gain back control of her thoughts. The woman she respects and grew to care about she corrects herself. There are many trials awaiting them in the next few weeks; there's so much to do to insure people's safety, both hers and Clarke's, to try and keep the relative peace of those lands alive. She can't allow herself to feel too strongly about anyone, she has to stay focused on what needs to be done.

_Then why are you here tonight?_ a part of her brain viciously throws at her. Lexa has mastered the skill of lying to people about her feelings, that is until Clarke confronted her in her tent. Defying her, the blonde woman had unraveled most of her hidden feelings and thrown them back at her to show Lexa that she wasn't fooled by her heartless pretense. So when the urge to tell Clarke about the one feeling she hadn't detected came over her, she didn't fight it, as scary as it had been to expose herself. Just like she couldn't fight the urge to finally kiss those inviting lips _“maybe life should be about more than just surviving”_. Lexa didn't know what would happen, how Clarke would react, she just jumped off the cliff and was more scared than she had been in the midst of her fiercest battle. Relief had washed over her when she had felt soft lips kissing her back, seeking more contact and the hand that came to rest gently on her waist had brought her back to safety. Even Clarke's abrupt interruption of that blissful moment wasn't enough to make her regret acting on her feelings. The blonde woman needed time and she understood that, she was more than willing to wait for as long as it would have taken.

_But now things have changed._ Lexa thinks with a twinge of sadness, looking at the woman by the fire, whimpering in her sleep, probably tormented by a nightmare. Now Clarke hates her, understandably, and she probably would never forgive her. Lexa has betrayed Clarke's people and her trust. Events had lead the Skaikru leader to the point where she had no choice but to commit a horrendous act, one that would always haunt Clarke just like it would always haunt Lexa to have been the one to put her in that position. She doesn't regret the difficult but necessary decision she made at Mount Weather and wouldn't pretend otherwise, certainly not to Clarke who deserves nothing less than her complete honesty on the matter, but things would have been so much simpler if Emerson had been struck by an arrow or with a sword before being able to make her an offer she couldn't refuse...

“We have arrested your army of freed prisoners and rebels,” he had told Lexa then, stopping a few feet from her, flanked by five of her warriors. “The sky people are still of use to us, but we've got your people lined up against the door that you and your allies are trying to open, with soldiers ready to shoot at them... or to let them go through that door.”

Lexa had started to dread what the mountain man would say next. “Withdraw your army now and we free your people, there's no need for any more of your warriors to die. Also, like I said, we only need Skaikru now, we won't need to capture any of your people again. Keep a safe distance from Mount Weather, and all the men , women and children under your protection won't have anything to fear from us.”

The battlefield, roaring with gunfire, swords clashing and screams minutes ago had gone completely silent, all warriors gathered around Lexa and Emerson, listening intently to every word of the exchange.

“So, what will it be Commander?” Emerson pressed.

How could she have said no? She had the opportunity to save her people imprisoned in the mountain, ensure peace with their greatest enemy and all of that without having to spill one more drop of her warriors blood. As much as Lexa had wanted to just slit the mountain man's throat and go back to fight beside Clarke, she didn't have the right to ignore the voice of reason. Pragmatism was a necessity when leading people in that kind of harsh world. That's how they survived during all those years of hardships.

Lexa has always truly believed in the importance of the Commander function, of the whole system behind it, even before becoming an initiate. It had kept her people organized, civilized and saved them from complete chaos when the world almost ended. There's been many threats over the years, to the people trying to survive and to the political system put in place by the first Commander, but her predecessors had made the hard choices too, just like she had to.

Letting her personal feelings have any impact on her decisions as the Commander would be a betrayal of the people that had fought and died to establish and consolidate a fairly stable political structure and more importantly of all the men and women whose lives depended on her. So Lexa had decided with her head, not her heart.

She just hopes that in the future Clarke's and her people's interest will always be compatible with her duty, allowing her to make decisions with her head that her heart would be satisfied with. Like when she sent Jared to check on Clarke, she had of course her selfish, personal reasons to do that but it also made sense, as the Commander, to keep track of a valuable former, and potentially future, ally.

Looking at the young woman's camp, Lexa can only admire her resilience. Clarke is the strongest and most tenacious person she has ever met, that's one of the reasons why she has been drawn to her since the first day they met, but attaining this level of self-sufficiency, for someone who lived in a space station until recently is very impressive. Especially considering the emotional turmoil the woman has surely been going through since Mount Weather.

Jared posing as a hunter to nudge Clarke in the direction of the trading post has helped, but that was insignificant compared to everything she has achieved on her own. A small smile grazes Lexa's lips at the thought of the encounter between her former teacher and Clarke. She wishes she could have seen it. From the bits of information she managed to get out of Jared about that meeting, it must have been interesting. Two of the most stubborn people she's ever known, a taciturn man forced to engage in a conversation to try to subtly help a woman who had been very unwilling to talk to or receive help from anyone. Such a shame those two could never meet again. Clarke wouldn't take well the Commander's interference, she would feel like part of her survival was not due to her own merit, that she owes it to the woman she hates. It would hurt Clarke's feelings and Lexa's not letting that happen if she can avoid it.

An owl calls in the distance, not disturbing the tranquility of the forest . She leans back against the trunk of the tree and closes her eyes to take in scents and sounds she rarely has the time to enjoy. _Tomorrow won't be easy,_ she thinks to herself, opening her eyes again to look at Clarke. She'll have to face the anger of the woman who for now is sleeping quietly a few feet away; she won't be happy to see her and what Lexa will have to tell her won't make it any easier.

But for now and for a few more hours, the atmosphere is serene. Being here tonight is not detrimental to any of Lexa's people in any way, nor to her function, so she decides that she can indulge herself in having one night of not being Heda. Tonight she's just Lexa kom Trikru, enjoying a peaceful moment, her mind finally at ease seeing for herself that Clarke is well.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke cups her hands under the surface of the lake and splashes the water collected on her face. She woke up half an hour ago and felt it was time to go the small lake she found not far from her camp during one of her hunts and make good use of it by washing off some of the dirt that had accumulated on her face. Cold water is running down her neck, into her clothes, making her shiver in the slight freshness of the morning but something about it feels invigorating so she repeats the operation until she feels soft, clean skin under her fingers.

She's careful not to put water on her hair; those pigments aren't waterproof, and she likes the impression of anonymity her new hair color gives her. Clarke Griffin is a blonde Skaikru who slaughtered a whole people, the redhead she sees in her reflection in the water is no one, and she'd rather be no one. The night before, Niylah admitted knowing who she is, she talked about a victory against their greatest enemy but it has never felt like one to Clarke. The admiration and excitement in the grounder's voice had bothered her. How could there be any glory in pulling a lever to irradiate hundreds of people? Most of them innocent, some of them friends. With another handful of water, she washes the thought away.

Yesterday's hunt has provided her with lots of supplies from the trading post, enough dried meat to last her for at least two weeks and a brand new knife to replace the one that took too much damage from the fight with the Panther. She wanted to change it anyway, to get one suited for throwing. The accuracy and power of Lexa's throw at Quint's hand when he was trying to kill her had made a strong, lasting impression on Clarke. Grounders' aversion for firearms has rubbed off on her, but a ranged weapon could be useful, so she's asked Niylah to help her choose a good throwing knife. The blonde merchant also showed her the proper stance and moves, enough to get started with her training.

Clarke gets the knife out of the sheath strapped to her belt. The wooden handle is soft, yet provides a good grip, she lays the knife across her index finger to test its balance, like Niylah did yesterday and is satisfied to find the center of gravity right on the guard. Carefully running her thumb along the sharp blade, she is surprised at how easily it cuts her skin despite the very low pressure she applied. Thanks to her substantial stock of dried food, she doesn't have to go hunting for several days, a break she intends to use to find a good training spot and practice until her hands are covered with blisters.

The thought of changing her routine makes Clarke feel lighter and she doesn't know why but she woke up in a fairly good mood this morning. Last night's bad dreams were less intense than usual. Maybe time is doing its job, slowly healing her wounds. Clarke hadn't been keeping track of time, but she figures it must have been around 4 or 5 months since Mount Weather. For the first time since then, she is enjoying the scenery, the sun rising above the wooded hills, the wildlife waking up, the almost stillness of the small lake just disturbed by small waves induced by a soft breeze. Clarke closes her eyes and inhales the fresh morning air.

As she fills her lungs with it, images of people desperately breathing in their last gulps of toxic air flash through her mind. Panting, she opens terrified and teary eyes. She can't have peace, not after what she's done, she doesn't deserve it...

“Hello Clarke,” she hears coming from behind her.

That voice. No, it can't be. Clarke stands up and slowly turns around. Shock keeps her from doing or saying anything; it just seems improbable to see _her_ here. Or is it? She wonders. A part of her has always expected Lexa to show up one day. _“May we meet again.”_ But seeing the woman she has grown to loathe, who betrayed her and left her people to die, here, in these peaceful surroundings, greeting her so casually, looking as calm as ever, as if everything was normal, all of this feels absurd.

“There are important matters we need to discuss Clarke.”

How dare she talk as if they were still allies or friends; as if she didn't stab Clarke and her people in the back? Rage is building up inside her. Her fingers tighten around the handle of the knife she had forgotten she still had in her hand. A loud throat clearing emanates from her right side. She turns her head and sees a tall brawny man, his right hand placed menacingly on the pommel of his still sheathed sword.

“This is Caius, my guard,” Lexa says, following Clarke's gaze.

“Stand down,” she orders him.

The guard reluctantly drops his hand to his side, his eyes never leaving the Skaikru woman.

“Put your weapon away Clarke kom Skaikru, this is no way to behave in Heda's presence” he tells her.

“If you want it, come and get it,” she says menacingly, taking a defensive stance.

Caius takes the first step towards Clarke but stops when Lexa raises a hand authoritatively.

“Go wait for me at the camp, Caius.”

“Heda, we're close to enemy territory and ...”

“Leave us!” The Commander has raised her voice, and her face has grown hard.

After a second of hesitation, he bows his head to Lexa, gives a warning look to Clarke who glares at him in return, then he walks away. When he reaches the edge of the forests and disappears from her view, Clarke turns her attention back to the Commander.

“Are you that sure that I won't attack you or that sure that you would beat me?” She asks in a raspy voice with defiance in her eyes.

Lexa doesn't answer and folds her hands behind her back. Clarke has wanted to harm the Commander so many times in the last few weeks, dreamed about killing her, she doesn't know why she hesitates now. Lexa's attitude is infuriating her even more. Is she taunting her by clasping her hands behind her back? Does she want to show she doesn't consider Clarke a danger? Or is it something else? Nothing's ever simple with the grounder.

“War is brewing Clarke, I need you. Your people need you.”

How can Lexa ask for her help? How dare she mention her people? This pushes her over the edge, she pounces on the brunette who stays motionless even when Clarke holds the back of her head with one hand while pressing the knife to her throat with the other.

A strong part of Clarke wants to kill the woman she holds responsible for so many deaths and so much suffering. If Lexa had kept her word, if they had followed the plan, they would have freed their prisoners. Several soldiers and warriors would probably have been killed in the process, but no innocent, no children would have died. The Commander had deprived her of that by agreeing to sacrifice Clarke's people, and now she'll have to bear the burden of what she had done to save them for the rest of her life. She wants to thrust the knife into the grounder's throat, make her pay for all of this, but something holds back her arm. Something she doesn't fully comprehend and can't control. There's another part of her that doesn't want to hurt Lexa, a part that still cares about her, it tells her things aren't that simple, that Clarke is responsible for her actions as well. A battle is raging inside her. She's angry at herself for caring about the betrayer, she's angry at herself for behaving like a savage and wanting to murder someone just to assuage her anger and guilt. But she _is_ a savage now, she _is_ a murderer and all of that because of the woman standing still against her body, her head high and proud despite the sharp blade at her throat.

Breathing heavily from the mental exertion, with tears beginning to well up against her will, Clarke looks into Lexa's eyes. During the time they spent together while preparing for the war against the mountain, she has learned to see through the Commander's mask, but she doesn't need to right now, Lexa's not wearing it. Her eyes are wide open, her emotions unconcealed. Surprise, hurt, sadness. Regret? Acceptance? She's brought out of that internal examination by the feeling of warm liquid on her fingers. Looking down at her hand she sees red blood dripping from a cut on Lexa's throat along the blade of the knife she must have pushed without noticing. The realization of what she is doing hits her and she releases the grounder with a push.

Clarke drops the knife and looks at the blood on her hand, tears finally flowing from her eyes. What has she become?

“I'm sorry Clarke, I wish I could leave and let you be but there are things you need to know, things we need to discuss regarding your people.” Lexa says in a soft voice.

“ _We_ don't have anything to discuss at all. I'm done. I'm just a hunter. Leave me alone.”

Clarke turns around. Looking at the flat rock protruding from the lake's surface she used to kneel beside the water earlier, she thinks about those few minutes of peace she's had; she can't believe it was less than half an hour ago. She wonders if the life she has built herself the last few weeks is slipping through her fingers as the water from the lake did this morning.

“You can't run away from who you are, Clarke.” The Commander's voice is back to its usual cold, collected tone and Clark faces the grounder again .“No matter how much paint you put in your hair” Lexa adds looking at the dark red locks framing the Skaikru woman's face.

“And you can't hide who you are, _Commander_ ,” Clarke says, spitting the last word as if it were an insult. “You don't give a damn about my people, I know that.”

“No you don't Clarke. You just want to believe that because it makes it easier for you to hate me. And it's easier to hate me than to hate yourself.”

“Oh I can do both.”

Clarke starts pacing. Would she really have chosen differently if she had been in the Commander's place? That's a question she's asked herself many times. She wants to think she would have, but considering what she did to Maya and the other men and women of Mount Weather who had risked their lives to help her people, she's not sure she's any better than the woman standing in front of her, looking so composed. But that's the thing, Clarke knows she's a mess, she's paying the price for her actions. The Commander, on the other hand, doesn't look affected by all of this. She wants to see Lexa's emotions like she did a minute ago when she looked into those undefended eyes. But the Commander's mask is back in place; she's using her title and the responsibility that goes with it as a shield against guilt and any other feelings, probably freeing her from the curse of having the nightmares that haunts Clarke's nights.

“ Do you even care about everything that happened at Mount Weather? Those deaths are on you too, you know. How do you sleep at night?”

A dreamy expression crosses Lexa's face as she looks in the distance and answers, her voice barely more than a whisper, “Last night was good.”

Clarke furrows her brow, surprised by the Commander's sudden change of demeanor but the grounder quickly recovers.

“It helps no one to dwell on the past, Clarke. The living need our help.”

“Stop acting as if I could consider allying with you again, Lexa. I know your people's interest will always come first.”

Clarke reaches into her jacket's inside pocket, she draws out a cloth which she hands to Lexa, indicating with a jerk of her head the blood that is still oozing from the cut on the grounder's throat. Lexa grabs the piece of fabric, nods her thanks and wipes the blood off her neck before answering.

“That's true. A fact you might appreciate in the future since I want your people to become _my_ people. I'm giving Skaikru the chance to join my coalition, become the Thirteenth Clan.”

“I remember your people's reaction when you agreed to a temporary alliance with us; they'll never accept that.”

“They will accept it, Clarke. Some won't like it at first but the process of building this coalition didn't go without some gnashing of teeth. Each addition of a new Clan brought its detractors, but it's nothing I can't handle. Besides, my people's opinion on Skaikru has changed significantly since the defeat of Mount Weather; it will make things easier.”

“What's your angle Commander? I know you, you wouldn't make that kind of offer without a good reason. And why are you discussing this here, with me? You should be at Camp Jaha talking with my mother.”

“I'm heading there after our meeting, but a lot has changed since you left, Clarke. Camp Jaha is now Arkadia and your mother is no longer Chancellor. An election took place and a man named Pike won, his stance on my people is a lot more belligerent than your mother's was. There have been serious tensions between Skaikru and one of the Clans, Azgeda, the Ice Nation. Open war is close. That's why I'm here, with this proposition.”

“What? How? Pike?” Clarke's puzzled expression worsens with every word “I thought he was on farm station.”

Clarke is starting to realize how disconnected from her people she has become. When she thought about them, she imagined them going on with their lives, as normally as possible in this complicated world. Her mother had healed from her injuries and was learning to be a good Chancellor with the help of Kane. Bellamy was taking care of their safety, probably training their army, Raven was building and inventing objects to improve their living conditions. She had imagined the people who had landed with her mother would have adjusted to their new environment, probably started farming and making the remnant of the Ark more comfortable to live in.

Has she been blind? Irrationally optimistic? Or has she chosen to believe everything was fine for them because it made it easier for her to escape them and her responsibilities towards them? _I bear it so they don't have to._ Except she hasn't been bearing anything since she left Camp Jaha. _Arkadia,_ she corrects herself. She had laid the burden of taking care of her people on others' shoulders, never looking back as she selfishly ran away.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Lexa, who had given Clarke a minute to digest the news, answers.

“One of your people's patrols found other Skaikru who had landed in Azgeda territory; Pike was one of them. The Ice Nation attacked their ship and killed most of them so the survivors' antagonism towards what they call “grounders” is strong.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I sent an ambassador to Arkadia to negotiate a treaty with your people when they came back from Mount Weather, to grant them peace and some lands. Then he stayed there to act as an intermediary between Polis and Skaikru.” The Commander's attitude remains impassive, except for her eyes which are blinking just a little too much, Clarke observes. One of the few discreet signs of anxiety she had learned to recognize in Lexa's body language.

“What happened to him?” She asks.

“I do not know, I haven't received any news from him since your Chancellor's election, which was 2 weeks ago, and the other emissaries I sent to Arkadia have not been let in.”

Lexa goes to sit on a fallen tree and uses the cloth Clarke has given her to wipe away the fresh blood that has continued to drip slowly from her wound. Clarke follows her mechanically, but remains standing.

Hearing about the peace treaty, Clarke must admit that at least, the Commander has done right by her people on that matter. If she was honest with herself, Lexa has done more than that; it mustn't have been easy to convince grounders to give a part of their territory to Skaikru.

“Those tensions you're talking about, is it because Azgeda lost lands to my people?”

“No, the lands I allocated to your people were all taken from Trikru territory.” Lexa folds the cloth and puts it in her pocket. “The main reason for those tensions is that the Queen of Azgeda has always wanted to overthrow me, take the head of the coalition. The events of Mount Weather gave her an opportunity. She's using this, and your people, to reach that goal.”

“Now it makes sense.” Clarke's puzzled expression is replaced by one of contempt. “The deal you made with the Mountain made you look weak. Azgeda is exploiting that. You want to gain back your people's respect by having the defeaters of Mount Weather put themselves under your authority. Well, you know what you could have done to avoid denting your precious reputation as the powerful, ruthless Commander? Fight beside us, like you promised you would. Instead you took the easy way out and now you want the people you left to die to help you secure your position? You've got some nerve.”

“Your people have as much to lose as I do if Queen Nia proceeds with her plan, Clarke. And as much to gain as I do from this alliance. Once Skaikru becomes part of my coalition, no one will dare to move against them because that will be moving against me. They'll be protected.”

“How is that Queen using my people to overthrow you anyway? Since Azgeda is part of your coalition, isn't she supposed to respect the peace treaty?”

“The treaty I made with Skaikru forbade them to go into Mount Weather, but they did, repeatedly. The Mountain's weapons are greatly feared by my people, they killed thousands of us, effortlessly. Missiles, acid fogs,... The Skaikru have the knowledge to use those; it's a threat I can't ignore. My ambassador tried to make your people understand our point of view and most of them did, like your mother.

Survivors from the farm station, as I said, have a strong antagonism towards my people. They didn't obey my order nor your council's and kept going there. Your mother and Marcus Kane convinced me to give Skaikru some time to get things under control on their own but Azgeda sent a group of warriors to destroy the Mountain with a code for a self-destruct mechanism they got from Emerson.”

At this point, Clarke sits beside Lexa, the burden of not having been there for her people weighing heavier on her conscience with each sentence from the Commander who continues to relate the events.

“The Ice Nation attacked against my orders but considering those Skaikru were infringing on our agreement, I couldn't condemn too strongly the act that many have seen as a sign that the Queen of Azgeda was more willing to do what was necessary to protect our people than I was. The warriors failed, they were killed by the farm station soldiers before having the time to set off the self-destruct mechanism but around 20 Skaikru were killed during the assault.

Most of your people considered this attack proof that we don't want peace and will try to wipe them out. That's when the election took place, with the result I've told you about.

Octavia was still in Polis when my scouts came to tell me about Azgeda's attack, she's the one who had brought me the message from your mother and Marcus Kane asking me to give them some time to deal with the Mount Weather issue. I sent her back to Arkadia to explain the situation to your people. But considering the lack of response, I guess they weren't convinced.

Since then, Skaikru keep going outside of their allotted territory creating a few incidents with Azgeda warriors, mostly. Enough for the Queen to send her army to the border with your people's lands. For now, she is obeying my command not to cross that border but I won't be able to hold my people back much longer, especially Nia who sees in this war an opportunity to gain even more power. One more aggression, one more provocation from Skaikru and Azgeda will have legitimate reason to attack full force. I'll have to invoke the coalition army to march on Arkadia and your people will surely use Mount Weather's weapons. This war could cost thousands of lives, Clarke. We have to act fast to prevent that from happening.”

Clarke is shaken by the seriousness of the situation. How can things have gone so badly in such a short time? She thought they could have a reprieve after the events of Mount Weather. Surely, life on the ground can't always be about war, can it? She doesn't understand why her people would want to occupy that cursed bunker. Of course, it has advantages: the facility is well equipped and full of supplies. But it was obvious that going there would antagonize the Coalition which was a stupid move considering it was Lexa and her coalition that had given them lands and peace.

At the same time, she has to wonder if she's not too lenient on the grounders. Maybe she has become too immersed in their culture and has forgotten where she came from. So many of her people were killed, without any warning or words of any sorts. Just because they had been unfortunate enough to land on someone else's feet. She remembers Jasper's excitement when he had crossed that river, just a few days after they arrived on Earth, his big smile was still plastered on his face when a spear came out of nowhere and struck him in the torso.

Clarke didn't have much time to evaluate the state of mind of the people who landed with the Ark; she had been too caught up in getting her friends out of the Mountain. But she can easily imagine how scared they must have been, thrust into an unknown, dangerous world. All her people must have shared the feeling of betrayal she experienced when Lexa had walked away with her army, in a different way, less personal, but mixed with the bitter realization that they couldn't count on anyone else but themselves.

She can understand why her people would want to take matters into their own hands, but staying out of the Mountain is a small and fair price to pay to obtain a much needed peace. Now it seems like only a miracle could prevent a bloodbath.

“Considering the current situation, it doesn't seem likely that your people would accept Skaikru into your coalition, so what's your plan, Lexa?”

“The Azgeda warriors who attacked the mountain had the self-destruct code written on their arms. If Skaikru uses this code to destroy Mount Weather themselves, once and for all, my people will see that as an act of allegiance, it will show them that your people truly want peace. Then the 13th Clan will be able to join the coalition. Nia won't have any other choice than to withdraw her army since there will be no more threat to use as an excuse. And if she doesn't, all the other Clans will fight beside Skaikru.”

“You want to ask my people to destroy their military advantage when they are on the brink of war? And to just trust you to protect them afterward? They'll never go for it! How could they after what you did?”

“It won't be easy that's true, but it's also our only option. That's why I need you, Clarke. Some Skaikru don't agree with your new Chancellor and want nothing more than peace, but Pike is using everyone's fear to his advantage. Your people listen to you, they trust you.”

“The fact that my people trust me is precisely why I can't help you. I don't know what secret agenda you might have. Maybe you just want me to convince them to strip out their defenses so you can attack and kill them all. Do you realize what you're asking me Lexa?”

“Yes,” the grounder breathes, her eyes conveying all her worries and hopes, “a leap of faith.”

Clarke rises to her feet and starts pacing again. If the situation wasn't so serious, she might have laughed at the irony of being asked to take a leap of faith by none other than the woman whose betrayal has been her obsession for the last few months. But the situation is serious, and as hard as she thinks about it, she can't find another way out of this mess. The proposal to join the coalition, as convenient as it might be to the Commander, is generous and would benefit her people. Lexa seems to want to avoid a war earnestly, but Clarke had been wrong about the grounder before. Dead wrong, and it almost cost her friends their lives.

“I can't do that Lexa. I can't take that risk.” With a heavy sigh, she sits down on the fallen tree again and leans back on a branch. When her back touches it, she jolts forward with a groan.

Lexa raises one arm as if to touch Clarke's back but stops mid-air and rests her hand on her lap instead.

“What happened to your back, Clarke? Are you hurt?” She asks, her voice laced with concern.

“Just a scratch I had forgotten about. A panther. Anyway, I can't help you Lexa. I don't know if my people would listen to me, especially after the way I abandoned them, but I know I can't ask them to trust you if I don't.”

The two women hold each other's gaze in silence for a moment then Lexa nods and says “I understand” before standing up. “A horse is waiting for you back at your camp. It's a gift, whether you want to use it to come and join me at Arkadia or to proceed with your life as a hunter is up to you.”

Lexa turns to leave; she seems to hesitate a few seconds then faces Clarke again.

“You're one of the rare people who can see right through me, Clarke. At least, when your vision is not clouded by a veil of pain and anger.” Her expression and voice soften when she adds, “please, do try to lift that veil,” before turning around and starting to walk away.

“Lexa, wait.” Clarke stands up as the grounder stops. “You do realize you're throwing yourself into the lion's den, right?”

“Yes, I do. But I have to try.” She looks over her shoulder; sad green eyes lock with concerned blue ones. “May we meet again.”

With those words, Lexa walks away and quickly disappears between the trees, leaving Clarke with a lot of thinking to do.

For hours, that's exactly what she does; she tries to analyze the situation, gauge Lexa's and her people's feelings, dissect her own. All the events of the past year pass before her eyes, all the conversations she's had with Lexa fill her ears. After so much time spent blocking thoughts of the Commander and everything that happened before she left Arkadia, it feels overwhelming. Each of those memories still pierce through her heart. The pain of the betrayal, the guilt of what she did at Mount Weather are still vivid, but she can't keep being a coward, running away from all of this, she owes it to her people to think this through carefully. She has to decide if she's going to trust Lexa with their lives. Again.

She doesn't know how long she's been here, just going over all of it, but it must have been some time because the sun is now casting shadows on the other side of the lake as it did when she arrived this morning. Tiredness and confusion set in a while ago and her mind is starting to feel fuzzy. Maybe some cold water would help her clear her head, she thinks to herself.

The lake's water is warmer than this morning, Clarke muses as she splashes some on her face. She is kneeling on the rim of the flat boulder like she had earlier, water drops trickle down her face and fall from her chin, slightly wrinkling the lake's surface. As the last small circle gets absorbed back by the surface's stillness, her reflection comes back into focus. Is this who she is now? She wonders. Slowly, strong resolve replaces the worried and confused look on her face. “Time to get rid of that color”, she tells her reflection determinedly before immersing her head in the water.

* * *

The black horse Lexa is riding chomps on the bit, fighting against the tension she is maintaining in the reins. She hasn't had much time to train with him so they're not used to each other yet, and the young, lively horse tests his rider's authority. The large open area they just stepped in calls for a gallop and she can feel his agitation, but considering the circumstances and the soldiers visible in the distance on top of the walls of Arkadia, she can't allow it, so she forces him to keep walking at a slow pace. She wouldn't have had this problem with her usual mount; the graceful white mare had been given to her when she became Heda and through all the battles and journeys they've shared, they had become attuned to one another. It hasn't been easy leaving her horse at Clarke's camp, but Lexa knows the mare will serve the young Skaikru well.

A part of her hopes that she will use it to go far away from the impeding war but even if she had needed some time to herself to come to terms with the things she's done, Clarke could never truly abandon her people. Her dedication to them is too strong; that's one of the things she admires about her. Lexa was raised that way, it's always been simple for her, but Clarke just naturally picked up the burden to bear it without ever questioning it, nor realizing or caring about the fact that some of the people she's protecting are the very ones who had sent her to die on Earth. So even though she's not coming to help her with the negotiations, she knows Clarke will probably return to her people, putting herself in danger in the process.

More soldiers appear on the walls of Arkadia; Lexa can now discern their shapes better, and she sees them all aiming their riffles at her small cohort. Caius is riding beside her, two of her warriors lead the way, and two more bring up the rear. She decided to leave the rest of her escort at the camp with Indra, thinking it was best to appear as non-threatening as possible.

A gust of wind makes the loose ends of Lexa's scarf flap over her shoulder. As the wind dies, she discreetly checks that the fabric still covers the cut on her neck. Caius is loyal and obedient, so are the other guards she brought with her from Polis, but after what happened with Gustus, she's wary of what a zealous guard can do to protect his charge. She didn't want to risk having one of them thinking of Clarke as a threat to her, so when she got back to the camp, she hid the wound as best as she could.

The meeting with Clarke didn't start well, she expected it, but she had been surprised by the sheer rage that had crossed Clarke's face when she attacked her. Something that had surprised Lexa even more was how little impulse she's had to defend herself. Everything in her should have screamed to respond, she's never shied away from a fight. That's who she is, who she needs to be, why she is Heda and didn't die as an initiate like many others did, but earlier, with Clarke, it had been different. The Skaikru woman is not a warrior, her position as she was holding the knife against her throat left options for Lexa to disarm her but something in her needed to know if Clarke hated her enough to kill her. That need had been more important than anything else, more important than her survival, even more important than her duty. If she had died then, all hopes to avoid a war would have died with her, but even that didn't matter when Clarke's body was pressed against hers, her deep blue eyes boring into her soul.

Lexa puts her hand in her coat pocket, touching the cloth the Skaikru gave her. Clarke doesn't hate her enough to kill her, nor to let her bleed, she thinks to herself, taking comfort from the thought and the feeling of the soft fabric between her fingers.

There is movement on the walls of Arkadia, Lexa looks up, only one of the soldiers watching them approach is not aiming a gun at them, which means that he must be the one in charge. She's proven right when the muscular black man loudly says “That's close enough.”

Lexa halts her horse, her warriors do the same. She gives a respectful nod to the man and says, “Nice to meet you Chancellor Pike”

“I got to say, I'm surprised. I didn't expect a visit from the Commander herself, at least not without an army.”

“We have a lot to talk about Chancellor.”

The man eyes her coldly and answers, “Yes, we do. Send your men away and we'll open the gate for you.”

Lexa turns towards Caius and gives him a warning look, forbidding him to say anything, to try and contradict her in front of the Skaikru. She indicates the direction of their camp with her head and waits as her guard reluctantly turns his horse around and starts to leave, quickly followed by the four other warriors. As they near the end of the big clearing, the door opens and she gives a light kick with her heels to make her horse enter Arkadia. The hostility on the faces of the people gathered on the other side of the gate doesn't bode well _._

_May my spirit choose its successor wisely._

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Lexa is lying on her back on her cell's cot, with one arm folded under her head. She has been waiting here for several hours now, since the end of her meeting with the Chancellor.

As soon as she had entered Arkadia, soldiers had made her dismount, taken her sword and bound her hands behind her back. Then she had been led inside the giant ship and through a maze of corridors until they had reached a door with the word “Council” written on it. The four soldiers escorting Lexa had pushed her inside a dimly lit room with a round table in the middle before posting themselves on each side of the entrance. After a few minutes, the Chancellor had walked in followed by five men and women who had gone to sit down on the chairs placed around the table. The only face she had recognized was that of Marcus Kane.

“What did you want to talk about?” Pike had asked crisply.

“The opportunity for the Sky people to join my coalition and avoid war, Chancellor.” Lexa had answered.

“You attacked us at Mount Weather, while we were supposed to be at peace. You tried to lure us into believing that we were safe, so that we would let our guard down. If it weren't for the soldiers I positioned inside Mount Weather, who gave their lives to defend the place, your warriors would have destroyed it, with nearly 50 of my people inside. And now you come talking about avoiding war?” Pike had stood up and walked closer to Lexa. “How stupid do you think we are?”

“The attack on Mount Weather was unfortunate, but I didn't order it, the ...” Lexa had begun.

“Stop lying!” Pike had interrupted angrily. “Octavia Blake has relayed your message to us, the stories you've been feeding her. But we're not buying any of it. Ice Nation, Tree Nation, other clans from your coalition, it's all the same. You are grounders and you've been trying to wipe us out since the moment the firsts of us landed on this planet. I guess you want us to abandon Mount Weather, but that's not happening. Your people will learn to fear us, like they feared the Mountain men before _we_ came to take care of them for you.”

Hearing her people threatened this way had made Lexa's blood boil, no one had ever talked that way in front of her and survived. Pike wouldn't have been the first man she had killed while having her hands tied and he had come dangerously close to her, but killing the Chancellor now would have started the war for good and antagonized the whole Skaikru people irreparably. So, she had breathed deeply and fought to gain back her self-control.

“First of all, what I'm asking you is not to _abandon_ Mount Weather, but to _destroy_ it, with the self-destruct mechanism.” Lexa had said calmly. “Secondly, you seem to be forgetting that we learned a lot about its weapons and security, Chancellor. Lastly, you don't know those lands and the people inhabiting them like the Mountain men did. You'd find yourself stuck in a long, bloody war. My people are used to this, yours aren't. But there's no reason for things to come to this.”

“Yes, there is. You. And your people of savages.” Pike had said while going back to sit on his chair. “The council will now deliberate. Guards, take her to the cell block we cleared out last week.”

The soldiers had escorted her deeper into the wreckage of the Ark. They had paused to maneuver a big, thick, rusty door, which had screech opened loudly on a hallway leading to a dozen unoccupied, identical cells consisting of a small bed, a toilet, and a sink. They had locked her inside one of the cells and cut the plastic band tying her hands through the bars before leaving. After a short inspection of her surroundings, Lexa had reached the conclusion that any attempt to escape would have been a waste of energy, so she had gone to lay down on the small bed to save her strength.

Looking at the ceiling, lit by a flickering artificial light, she wonders what Skaikru's lives had been like during all those years trapped in space aboard this station.

As imposing as it looks from outside, the impression Lexa got when entering the Ark and discovering the inside while being lead to the council room or her cell was one of limited space. Narrow corridors, confined personal quarters, cramped rooms where every square inch mattered. This place didn't seem like it had been made to serve as a long-term habitation, but that's what it had become. When Lexa was running through miles and miles of woods and fields as a child, Clarke and her friends only had those tight corridors, probably knowing them like the back of their hands.

The other impression Lexa gets when thinking about Skaikru's lives in space is one of stagnation. On the ground, change is a part of everyday life. Seasons bring different conditions. An earthquake or a big storm can bring to the ground what men spent weeks to build and radically change the landscape. Predators change their hunting ground and what used to be a safe place can turn into a death trap. Everything's in constant mutation and humans don't have much control over it. Aboard this ship, only people lived, and they controlled what changed and what didn't. No wonder Skaikru are so frightened. After a century of controlled sameness, life on the ground must appear messy, chaotic. That's probably part of the reason why they have been so eager to occupy Mount Weather. That kind of confined environment must reassure them. Gustus was right when he said that Skaikru had a lot more in common with the mountain men than with them. She had underestimated that fact and its consequences. And her people will pay for her mistake.

Lexa wishes she'd asked more questions of Clarke about life in space, maybe if she had understood the Skaikru people better, things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand. Or maybe she would have realized she had to kill them all before they got their hands on Mount Weather's weapons, she thinks somberly. For the last few years, she's been trying to navigate between her duty to protect her people by eradicating threats and her wish to bring a new era, a more peaceful one, one in which they could prosper. She has taken chances building the Coalition, all alliances are risky, but this time she has gone too far, she shouldn't have taken so many risks with people she knows and understands so little. She's made the mistake of donning them with some of Clarke's qualities; but obviously, the blonde woman is not representative of her people.

A creaking noise breaks the silence as the metallic door leading to the cell block opens. Lexa stands up; she can't yet see who has come in since her cell is the farthest from the entrance, but she hears a pair of boots walking down the hallway towards her as the outer door closes. She straightens up, clasps her hands behind her back and turns towards the approaching footsteps. Marcus Kane comes into view and stops in front of the barred wall. In the council room, her attention had been focused on Pike; she had barely cast a glance at Kane; but looking at him more attentively now, she can't help but notice a significant change in his demeanor compared to what she remembered of him from their short time together in Ton DC. His beard has grown and is dotted with gray hairs, making him look like he's aged a lot more than the few months that have passed since the last time she saw him. The dark circles under his worried eyes and his slumped shoulders show that the events of the last few weeks have taken their toll on him.

“Commander, I'm afraid I come with bad news,” he says gravely. “The Chancellor's ordered your execution. I tried to talk him out of it, but it fell on deaf ears. I'm truly sorry.”

Lexa simply nods as Marcus Kane announces her sentence, she knew the risks she was taking when coming to Arkadia and the Chancellor's attitude in the council room hadn't given her much hope.

“It's imminent,” Kane continues. “Pike is too scared that your people or the ones among us who disagree with his policy, would have time to help you escape.” He walks closer to the bars separating them and lowers his voice. “If he had put you in the big common cell with the other prisoners that might have been a possibility. I have a group of people with me, people who want to end this madness and put us back on the right tracks. We've started to work on a plan to free all the people the Chancellor has imprisoned; unfortunately, the cell block you're in is too secluded, my people can't circulate this far into the Ark without raising suspicions.”

“How strong is that resistance movement?” Lexa asks wondering if this dissension within Skaikru could benefit her people.

“Not strong enough to turn the tide yet, but we are organizing, and growing in number. The Chancellor's decisions are becoming more and more extreme, and my people are getting scared of his regime and of where he is leading us. At first, he imprisoned all grounders who were inside Arkadia, traders, wounded and ill people who had come seeking our expertise, hunters who had come to share their knowledge with us. He said they were spies gathering information on our defenses. Lincoln was next, then Octavia, Abby. After that he started arresting everyone he suspected of disagreeing with him.”

“What about my ambassador? He's been arrested too I suppose,” Lexa asks, watching Kane carefully.

He lowers his eyes; his expression is grim and embarrassed as he answers “No, I'm sorry, Commander, he was executed shortly after the Chancellor's election, under the accusation of having been an accomplice of the attack on our people at Mount Weather.”

Lexa takes a few steps back and turns around to collect her thoughts. Liam had been a loyal and reliable servant as well as a precious adviser since her first day as Commander. She had known him even before that since he used to give lectures about politics and history to the initiates. He was patient and wise, with a vast array of knowledge, and his political approach had always been a more diplomatic one than most of her people's, more than hers most of the time. That's why she had chosen him to come to Arkadia and lay the groundwork for a lasting peace with Skaikru; tell them about their ways, their history as a people, build a bridge between their two cultures. Lexa pushes the thoughts about her former ambassador away, as well as the urge to make someone pay for this. The dead's are gone, she will be too, soon, but it might not be too late for some of her people, so she walks back to the barred wall and Marcus Kane.

“You need to free the prisoners tonight,” she tells him trying to sound less authoritative than she naturally would.

“We only have one shot at this, Commander, we mustn't rush it unnecessarily, we still need a few days to find a good diversion, make sure we covered every angle but I swear to you we'll get your people out of Arkadia.”

“You don't have a few days,” Lexa answers with a hint of frustration in her voice. How can Kane not realize what is coming their way, fast? “Your chancellor wants to send a message with my execution, he'll want my people to know about my death as soon as possible, and I have a scout nearby. The word _will_ travel fast. Azgeda is waiting for an excuse to attack, and the Commander's murder is more than enough for that. War is about to start, Marcus, and when it does, it will be brutal, no one will be able to get out of Arkadia alive. You need to act tonight. My execution will be a good distraction, find a way to use it. Free the prisoners, take the ones loyal to you and leave.”

“I can't abandon my people, they're just afraid. They made a terrible mistake voting for Pike, and now they don't know how to get out of this situation. They're good people, Commander, only a few of them are belligerently-minded.”

“Your Chancellor wasn't elected by a few, Marcus; he was elected by most,” Lexa answers coldly. Things would have been so much simpler if Kane had won this election. “Why don't you try to kill him, take his place? You say many of your people are loyal to you.”

“I can't do that. I've been down that road before, deciding who has to die for the greater good, and I won't do it again. Besides, even if I did kill Pike, I wouldn't be accepted as the new Chancellor. I know in your culture someone who kills a leader could be seen worthy of taking their place, but not in ours, I'd just be a traitor and a criminal.”

Lexa studies Kane; he could have been a good leader in a time of peace, he's smart, close to people, open minded, but he doesn't have what it takes to lead in this world. Difficult decisions must be made to keep people alive, shying away from that is not responsible, not taking chances when the situation is as desperate as it is now is cowardly, wanting to spare his own conscience is selfish. But looking into Kane's eyes, Lexa can see it would be a waste of time trying to make him understand that.

“Then the war is unavoidable, and your people will die,” she says matter-of-factly.

Kane seems taken aback, his mouth is half open, a response stuck in his throat.

The door creaks again, this time, Lexa hears more than one pair of boots coming her way. Five soldiers stop in front of her cell, unlock the barred door and bind her hands behind her back again. One of them faces Kane.

“Time to join the others in the courtyard, Councilman Kane,” he says, grabbing Lexa's arm to lead her out of the prison.

On her way out of the ship, Lexa pictures a little blonde girl running these corridors, laughing without restraint like only children can. She feels a pinch in her heart at the thought of the horrors awaiting Clarke if she comes back to her people.

They emerge into the open air; night has fallen, but the place is brightly lit. Skaikru of all ages are gathered in a large half circle in front of the Ark's entrance; the Chancellor is standing on the side of the opening, watching her approach with a gun in one hand and a look of contempt on his face. The soldiers bring her to a halt and then retreat a few feet away.

Pike starts his harangue, his voice one of someone who is used to speaking in front of an audience; confident, loud, articulated. Lexa wonders what his position was on the Ark before they landed.

“People of the Ark,” the Chancellor begins. “When you voted for me, I promised you that we would become a force to reckon with, one that the grounders would fear in the future. Everything I've done since that day has been with that sole purpose in mind, and tonight we'll take a big step towards that goal. The Commander, who is responsible for so many deaths among our own will answer for her crimes. The kids from the drop ship and the people from farm station who have been slaughtered for no reason, our soldiers who went on patrols and never came back, those who defended Mount Weather against a vicious attack thrown at us in time of pretended peace.”

The Chancellor pauses a second, watching his people as grief and anger harden their faces. “Tonight we avenge them all! Tonight we strike the grounders in a way they will remember. We'll show our enemies that we're not scared anymore! We'll show them who we truly are!”

The Chancellor has raised his voice with each sentence until it became a galvanizing shout met with clamors of agreement from most Skaikru. 

“You're right, tonight we'll show the grounders we're not a bunch of frightened children anymore,” a female voice says loudly over the clamor which slowly quiets as people turn to see who has interrupted the Chancellor.

Lexa's insides tighten as her eyes fall on the woman walking through the mass of people who separate to let her pass while exchanging whispers. Clarke walks out of the crowd and stops in front of the Chancellor.

Lexa studies the young woman; she looks so different from the one she has met with this morning. She has thoroughly washed up; the red color has almost completely disappeared from her blonde hair, as has the dirt on her face and she has changed into the same outfit she was wearing when they were standing together in front of Mount Weather. This morning, Clarke had looked just as much a Trikru as the hunters of Lexa's village. Now, though, it's definitely a Skaikru staring intently at the Chancellor. What hasn't changed is the fire burning in her eyes.

“I'm happy to see you return Ms. Griffin,” Pike says. “You've done a lot for our people, and we will need any help we can get in the difficult times to come.”

“That's what I came for, professor, help my people.” With those words, Clarke turns towards the people gathered in the courtyard. “Do you know why this woman came to Arkadia?” She asks them, pointing at Lexa.

“Yes,” the Chancellor answers. “They know she came to ask us to surrender and abandon our only protection. How much do _you_ know, Ms. Griffin?”

“Probably as much as you, professor,” Clarke states, looking back at Pike.

“It's Chancellor now,” he corrects, annoyance starting to show in his tone.

“And probably much more than them,” she continues indicating the assembly before her. “A few leaders deciding people's fate while keeping them in the dark was the old way, _Chancellor_. A way that everyone agreed to give up when arriving here.”

“How dare you barge in here after abandoning your own for months and start telling us how to do things? Guards, arrest her!” Pike says angrily.

Marcus Kane steps out of the crowd. “She does have a point, Chancellor. Maybe you should let her speak,” he says. “Besides, one thing I learned from my days on the council on the Ark is that if you're sure of the rightfulness of your decisions, you have nothing to fear from people knowing the whole story.” Several men and women around him nod their agreement.

Finally, Lexa thinks to herself, Kane is shouldering his responsibilities.

The Chancellor glares at the councilman then makes a dismissive hand gesture indicating his guards to release the blonde woman. The men obey, resume their positions and Clarke proceeds, unfazed.

“The Commander came to offer us a chance to join her Coalition,” she says, eliciting a few murmurs in the audience.

“Like she offered us an alliance against Mount Weather,” Pike interrupts, “before making a deal with the enemy and walking a way, leaving our people to die. How reliable was her word then?”

“I would have done the exact same thing in her position,” Clarke says firmly, making Lexa's heart flutter. “So would you Chancellor. So would anyone put in the position of having to choose between their people's survival and the lives of temporary allies. What the Commander is offering now is different. We would become part of her people, part of a Coalition that would protect us and help us.”

“Only a fool would believe that we would be considered the same as her _real_ people. We would remain disposable outsiders, at best,” Pike answers.

Lexa resists the impulse to intervene, to give more information about the Coalition, to tell them about her commitment to respect all the clans that compose it. She knows any intervention from her wouldn't be taken well right now; this is Skaikru business, she has to let them deal with this on their own.

“How much do you know about the Coalition, Chancellor?” Clarke asks. “Or of the twelve Clans composing it? How and when it was put together? Did you ask the Commander, or Lincoln, to tell you about it or did you just decide things were one way and never bothered to investigate further?”

Pike seems to be biting back an angry retort and Clarke focuses her attention back to the people in front of her, who had gradually become more openly interested.

“This Coalition is composed of twelve very different Clans. We've taken to uniting them under the appellation “grounders”, as if they were all the same, but they aren't. Most of them joined the Coalition recently, under the urging of Lexa. We wouldn't be the odd man out, we'd be an integral part of a diverse building community, with as much legitimacy as any other Clan.

I know you're all scared, it's normal. Life as we knew it has been shattered, and we find ourselves facing unknown dangers, but we can't let fear control our decisions. Rushing towards war is not the answer. Even if we win this one, what do you think our life will be like after that? If we kill hundreds of grounders, do you think the survivors will let us live in peace? We'll always have to be on our guard, we'll probably have to go hide in Mount Weather.”

“And what would be so wrong about that?” Pike says vehemently. “That place is an impregnable fortress, we would be safe.”

“And prisoners! Just like we've been for a century. Is _that_ what you want for your children?” Clarke asks, her gaze sweeping across the crowd. “To grow up in a bunker, afraid to be part of this world.”

“It's better than dying, Ms. Griffin.”

“Yes, it is. But we have another option,” Clarke replies.

“Only if we were stupid enough to trust the grounder's Commander, the very one who's shown us how little keeping her word means to her, twice. When she walked out of our alliance, and when she attacked us despite the peace treaty.”

For the first time since she walked into Arkadia, Clarke finally looks at Lexa. Her eyes don't leave the Commander's as she addresses the crowd.

“I'm not asking any of you to trust her, I'm asking you to trust me. And I'm telling you this is our best option”. Clarke's gaze never wavered but Lexa can feel the weight of the responsibility she just accepted and the worry that goes with it fall on the blonde woman's shoulders. _A leap of faith_.

“Is that supposed to be enough?” The Chancellor's voice now has a disdainful note. “A child asks us to trust her, and we should do just that? Besides, God knows where she's been all these months; she might have been with the grounders all this time, brainwashed into betraying her people.”

Clarke tightens her lips and faces the audience again, ignoring the Chancellor.

“You all know how intent I am on doing what's right for my people, and that's what I'm doing right now. I've killed hundreds of grounders, hundreds of mountain men and if I had the slightest doubt about this coalition offer, I'd be the first one to put a bullet into the Commander's head. Look into my eyes and you'll know I'm telling the truth.”

Lexa thinks back to that day, in her tent, when she had told Clarke that she was born for this, that she could become a great leader, one that her people would look up to. How right is she proven at this very moment. The Sky people are all staring intently at the blonde woman standing in front of them, clearly inspired by the strength exuding from her.

“The price for this alleged peace makes it impossible to take the risk,” Pike says. “The grounders want us to destroy Mount Weather; we'd lose the safety of the bunker, of all the weapons inside of it, forever. We'd lose a facility that allows us to treat our wounded better. We'd have to start from scratch if we did that, and we'd be at the grounder's mercy. Make no mistake, we are a target to them, and we would be for as long as it would take for them to kill us all. The attack we suffered inside the mountain is an undeniable proof of that. Do you want to be unarmed and unprotected when they come to slaughter you and your family in the middle of the night?”

Worried looks spread among the Skaikru.

“The Chancellor wants you all blinded by fear,” Clarke shouts into the crowd. “And I'm not saying there is no danger, but we can't keep on acting like scared entitled children. Yes, the grounders want Mount Weather destroyed. And I believe we should do it; we decided the bunker was ours without giving any thought to how it would be taken by the people who were here way before us, people who lost thousands of their mothers, brothers and children to the mountain. Us, a people with technological knowledge, invading the home of their former greatest enemy could only be taken as a threat. We took their offered peace with one hand while slapping them in the face with the other. Of course they're pissed! But we have one last chance to make things right. It's not too late yet.”

Clarke pauses and looks around the crowd, catching the eye of several she knows well, giving them a slight nod before carrying on. “We are a people of unity. A hundred years ago, twelve stations decided to come together, unite their efforts, despite different nationalities, different languages and histories of wars between them. They succeeded and that's how we survived, why we're here today. Our ancestors put their differences and fears aside to build a community. _That's_ our heritage.

Today could be _our_ unity day. Tonight we decide if we're going to be like the thirteenth station, or if we become the Thirteenth Clan.”

Lexa is amazed at the changes she has seen the Sky people go through in the last ten minutes. From scared and hesitant, they have morphed into a determined, proud people. There are still some looking lost and confused or angry and bitter of course, but the mention of their history has made most of them straighten up and proudly lift their chins. Lexa has to admit that hearing about this, witnessing their pride at what their ancestors have achieved, how it inspires them, her opinion of Clarke's people has changed a little. Maybe she's judged them too quickly, maybe there is more to them than she thought.

“OK, that's enough,” Pike says. “She is just trying to get you all to surrender to her new master. Clarke Griffin is a traitor! Guards, arrest her!” 

“No Chancellor!” Kane steps between Clarke and the guards. “You've been elected by these people. They entrusted you with great power. Don't abuse it, don't try to take away their free will with brute force. Clarke is only giving her opinion, which she is entitled to, then we all have the right to express what we feel is best for us as a people, this is a democracy, not a military dictatorship.”

“You're right Marcus, these people entrusted _me_ with great power, and I firmly intend to use it to protect them. Arrest both Ms. Griffin and former councilman Kane.” Pike orders his guards.

They make to step forward but a few men and women get out of the crowd and position themselves in front of Clarke and Kane. The soldiers look at their leader, waiting for his directive on how to deal with this new development but the Chancellor seems to be at a loss. Lexa is starting to dread a riot, tensions are running high, soldiers are still pointing their rifles towards the ground but most of them have put a finger on the trigger and seem a little frightened by the argumen ts that are starting to rise from the crowd.

“We are _not_ turning against each other!” Clarke's voice is authoritative and clear. “We decide now, we make a choice, all of us. Then no matter what path the majority chooses to follow, we all stick together, till the end.”

Clarke walks past Kane, past the people who had come to shield her, and past the soldiers who are too surprised to even attempt to block her. She stops in front of the Commander, their eyes lock for a second, Clarke lets out a short breath, then she rests a knee on the ground and bows her head.

This gesture, coming from Clarke, despite her pride and the history between them takes Lexa's breath away.

After a few seconds that seem to last hours, Marcus Kane walks through the people standing between him and the Commander, he stops behind Clarke and kneels as well. A soft thud resonates in the complete silence that is now reigning in the courtyard when a young soldier standing guard on top of the walls of Arkadia lays his rifle on the wooden platform and imitates the two leaders. 

This seems to wash off the remnants of hesitation in many people as faces start disappearing from Lexa's vision among the crowd, until the entire front row put a knee down as well, revealing patches of bent heads. Soon, almost all Skaikru are bowing to the Commander.

Pike's eyes are wild, baffled by what he is seeing.

Lexa is surprised too; she had hoped that Clarke w ould manage to convince most of their representatives, but what she is witnessing is something different, more significant, _deeper_. Each and everyone of those inclined heads is a human being who has chosen to take a leap of faith, one that requires great strength and courage. She wishes her hands weren't still bound behind her back, or guns still aimed at her, so that she could respond to this show of allegiance properly.

There will come a time for a ritual ceremony to officially receive Skaikru into the Coalition. There will come a time for a long, meaningful speech. Lexa inhales slowly, now is not yet that time.

“Rise up Thirteenth Clan!” Lexa calls out.

They stand up, a few hurrahs start echoing through the courtyard but the situation takes a dramatic turn in an instant as Pike moves behind the Commander, wrapping one arm around the front of her shoulders while holding a knife to her throat with his other hand. Clarke swiftly draws a gun from behind her back and aims it at the Chancellor who maneuvers Lexa to keep most of his body hidden behind her. All the excited cheers among the crowd have died down, satisfied grins replaced by worried expressions.

“No! I won't let you destroy what we've worked so hard to build,” Pike says between gritted teeth.

The Chancellor's hold is strong and he is pulling on the knife, forcing Lexa to tilt her head backwards to lessen the pressure of the blade under her chin, making her lose a good part of the secure footing she would need to try to free herself with her hands tied.

“The people have shown you what they want, Chancellor. You have to respect their wish.” Clarke says with cold anger in her eyes.

“I'm not stupid Ms. Griffin. You may have fooled them, but I know what this is. This is not a revolution, this is a coup. As soon as your grounder friend dies, everything will go back to normal.”

“Charles, don't do this,” Kane pleads, taking one step closer carefully. “One person can't decide a whole people's fate. They want this, you don't have the right to take that away from them.”

“The ones who weren't on farm station don't realize the kind of monsters these people are Marcus, it's my responsibility to keep them from finding out the hard way.” Pike leans to the right to talk to one of his soldiers. “Radio Mount Weather, tell Bellamy to go on lock down right now and to ...”

A flash momentarily blinds Lexa and a loud bang deafens her. Hot blood drenches her right shoulder as the pressure of the arms around her neck and front ceases. She throws a glance at the ground behind her to check that Pike is, as she suspected, dead then returns her attention to Clarke who is now aiming the smoking barrel of her gun at the soldier the Chancellor had been talking to a second ago. The man has frozen, one hand a few inches away from the radio strapped to his shoulder.

“Don't even think about it,” she says menacingly.

Her threat is clearly convincing as he slowly lowers his hand and spreads his arms in a surrendering gesture.

The young soldier who had knelt right after Kane, Miller according to the name tag Lexa manages to read on his vest, walks up to Clarke.

“I'll make sure no one can radio Mount Weather,” he tells her, starting to unstrap the radios from Pike's guards. Two men come out of the crowd and help him to remove the weapons from those guards loyal to Pike.

Reassured that the imminent threat is being taken care of, Clarke turns towards the people still gathered silently in front of her. “We'll be leaving for Mount Weather as soon as possible. We'll grab a few supplies there then proceed with destroying the mountain. The sooner this is done, the sooner we can start our new life as the Thirteenth Clan.”

“I'll take care of the logistics, Clarke,” Kane says before starting to give orders.

Everyone eagerly goes to work, quickly clearing the area. Soon, only the two women remain standing in the courtyard. Clarke gets her knife out of its sheath and approaches Lexa. She walks behind her, and the Commander feels the press of the cold blade against her wrists followed by the welcomed release from the tight plastic bonds coming off. Rubbing her red wrists, Lexa turns around to face the blonde. After those long minutes of heated arguments, fighting, and the pressure of being scrutinized by hundreds of pairs of eyes, this quiet moment with no one else paying them any attention, feels almost intimate. Lexa can see the tension slowly flowing out of Clarke's body as her shoulders relax, her breathing quietens and her face loses a part of its hardness.

The blonde woman's gaze rests on Lexa's bloodied shoulder, her brows furrow and she raises a hand to inspect it.

“It's not my blood, Clarke. You are a good shot,” Lexa says sincerely.

The blonde woman stops her inspection and snorts as she takes a step back. “More like a lucky one. He uncovered enough for it to be worth the risk, so I took a chance.”

Lexa inwardly chastises herself for instantly missing the soft touch of the young woman's hand on her shoulder.

“You did well. Thank you,” she quietly says, searching Clarke's face. _Searching for what_? She's not exactly sure.

“Don't thank me, I didn't do it for you. I did it for my people.” Clarke's tone is cold but most of the hatred Lexa had seen in those blue eyes this morning by the lake is gone, or at least tempered.

“Of course,” Lexa says with a nod. “This isn't over, though, I need to go back to my escort, to send them to the border between Azgeda and Skaikru territory, to make sure Nia doesn't intervene and ruin this. My camp is nearby. I'll be back shortly.”

Her guards and Indra must be getting restless after all these hours; she had ordered them to stay put until her return or until the scout she had posted near Arkadia gave them news of her demise. Jared is probably already waiting for her at the forest's edge in the direction of the camp.

“Okay, but I'm not letting you go alone, Lexa, your safety is crucial right now.”

“I'll go with her.”

They both turn towards the voice. Octavia walks out of the Ark, followed closely by Lincoln.

“Octavia!” Clarke's tone has lost its coldness, and a smile grazes the blonde's lips.

“Clarke. Took you long enough. Better late than never, I guess,” Octavia says, a crooked smile softening the harshness of her words. The two women close the distance between them and hug briefly. “Kane just got us out of jail, he briefed us quickly, you'll fill me in with the details when I get back.”

“I'm coming with you,” Lincoln tells Octavia.

“No you're not. There's a kill order on you, remember?” Octavia answers.

The Commander walks up to the trio. “I'm lifting the kill order, as a present for the Thirteen Clan, which he is a part of now.”

Lincoln has always been in conflict with Trikru ways, he never really fit in, and even now, after having been imprisoned by Sky people, he is still wearing their uniform, their jacket with their emblem embroidered on the shoulder. It seems he has finally found his place.

“Thank you Commander. I'll go get the horses,” he says before walking away with Octavia, leaving Clarke and Lexa alone again.

“Thanks for Lincoln. We'll be moving out soon, you might have to catch up with us on the way,” Clarke says. She lowers her voice, “if you betray me again...”

“I won't.” Lexa wants to say more, she wants to find the right words to wash away Clarke's doubts, express to her how intent she is on making this work, how much respect she has for what the blonde woman just accomplished. She wants to tell Clarke so many things, but even if they don't have many eyes on them anymore, the courtyard is still busy with people coming and going, loading vehicles and horses. It's hardly the place for such a conversation. So she tries to say as much as she can with her eyes. She feels at least a part of what she is trying to tell Clarke reaches her as her blue eyes soften.

“Ready whenever you are, Commander.” Lexa is surprised by how close Octavia's voice sounds. It's highly unusual for her to let people sneak up on her, she's been trained to be completely aware of her surroundings at all times, but the courtyard had seemed to vanish for a minute.  _ Or ha _ _s it been more than a minute?_

Octavia is already mounted, her crossed forearms are resting on the pommel of her saddle and she has a light smirk on her face as she points to Lexa's left with her chin. Turning around, the Commander sees Lincoln, holding the reins of a chestnut horse in one hand. His other arm is stretched out to her, almost imperceptibly shaking, presenting her the reins of the black horse Lexa has ridden to come to Arkadia. _How long has he been standing here?_

Deciding to dismiss the thought of possibly having made a fool of herself, she takes the reins and mounts her horse, quickly followed by Lincoln. Looking back at Clarke, Lexa sees that the blonde woman is engaged in another silent conversation, with Octavia this time, who has added a raised eyebrow to the smirk that still hasn't left her face. After a few seconds of this, Clarke turns around, obviously irritated and walks away.

Octavia straightens up in her saddle and her face is serious again when she looks at the Commander. “I'd hate for that Queen to get to my brother before I can knock some sense into his ass.”

Lexa nods. There are still a lot of things to take care of to defuse this explosive situation. Clarke has done her part, brilliantly, now it's Lexa's turn to do hers. She squeezes lightly with her lower legs, encouraging her horse forward and the three of them exit Arkadia.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, they are much appreciated.

Clarke walks away from the three mounted riders, eager to put some distance between her and Octavia's inquisitive stare, and more importantly, between her and Lexa.

Things have taken an unexpected turn in the last 24 hours. For months, whenever Clarke thought about the Commander, all she wanted to do was to make her pay for her betrayal; just this morning she had a knife to the grounder's throat and came close to killing her. But now, she's just saved Lexa and put her people's fate in her hands. It was the best option, she doesn't regret it, _not yet at least,_ her more cynical side adds. What bothers her is that she let herself get lost briefly in those green eyes, to the point where the courtyard had vanished around them for a few minutes. And to make matters worse, instead of the hatred, or at least resentment, she should have for the grounder, in that instant, she had felt that connection again. The one that had clouded her judgment in the past, the one that had caused her so much suffering.

Those considerations momentarily fall into the background when she spots her mother absorbed in a heated conversation with Marcus Kane in the canteen. Abby's absence earlier had worried her; the former Councilwoman and Chancellor wouldn't have missed such an important event without a very good reason. Clarke had started to fear that her mother had been severely hurt, or worse, but judging by her wrinkled clothes and uninjured body, Abby must have been imprisoned like Octavia and Lincoln. The scene brings an unpleasant feeling of deja-vu to Clarke, who starts thinking back to the moment she walked into the cell where her mother had been held captive in Mount Weather. _Don't go down that road;_ she tells herself. She knew coming back here would make memories resurface, but she can't let them cripple her anymore.

As if sensing Clarke's eyes on her, Abby turns her head in her direction and a relieved smile instantly softens the older woman's face, she walks to her daughter and wraps her in a warm embrace.

Clarke closes her eyes, buries her nose in Abby's neck and inhales the oh-so distinctive and familiar scent of her mother while holding her tightly. She had forgotten how good it felt to be comforted this way. After all the events of the last few months, all the hardships, the nightmares, the fights, and especially after today, the temptation to let herself fall into this comfort is strong. But, Clarke is not a little girl anymore, and she mustn't let herself, or her mother, or anyone else, think differently; so she reluctantly breaks the embrace.

“Clarke,” Abby says, conveying all her feelings into this simple word.

“Mom,” Clarke replies with a slight tremor in her voice.

“I'm so happy to see you're okay,” Abby says emotionally, rubbing her palms on the sides of Clarke's arms, not ready yet to let go of her daughter.

Clarke is filled with remorse thinking about everything her mother must have gone through when she decided to run away. She wants to tell her she's sorry for leaving, that she won't do it again, but none of those would be true; she had to leave, for her sanity, and she may have to leave again as part of her responsibilities in the Coalition they just joined. So Clarke simply nods, with a small smile and a few tears of sadness or happiness, she's not really sure, maybe both, slowly spilling out of her eyes.

Kane clears his throat and walks closer to the two women. “Clarke, what you did earlier was very brave. Thanks to you, we may avoid war and start down a better path.”

Clarke takes a step back from her mother, wiping tears from her cheeks with her sleeve and clears her throat, trying to regain her voice.

“What we all did,” she corrects. “But we're not out of the woods yet, and we won't be as long as Mount Weather is still standing. When do you think we can leave?”

“Probably within the hour,” Kane answers. “The vehicles took a few hits during the patrols out on the border; Raven and her team needed some time to fix the most damaged ones, and we'll need as many as possible. Almost everyone wants to come to Mount Weather, to be a part of this, but I had to limit it to around fifty people. Just enough to transport in vehicles or on horses while keeping enough room for the supplies we'll grab there.”

“The more people we have outside knocking, showing Bellamy and the others that we are serious, the better the chance we have of getting them to open the door,” Clarke says.

“Is this really necessary?” Abby intervenes. “Destroy Mount Weather? The medical facilities there are precious, they could save the lives of so many people over the years. Our equipment aboard the Ark pales in comparison. Now that we are part of the Commander's Coalition, people will be less eager to go there for protection. We can even seal off access to it, for now, dismantle what's left of the acid fog machinery, the missiles. We don't have to destroy the whole complex.”

“Yes, we do,” Clarke asserts firmly. “It's a non-negotiable condition for acceptance into the Coalition. Besides, if we don't do it, Azgeda or Lexa will. At least this way, we get something out of it.”

“Where is the Commander?” Abby inquires, looking around them.

“She went back to her camp to send warriors to try and prevent Azgeda from interfering,” Clarke answers.

“Will that be enough?” The former Chancellor asks. “If what Octavia told us is true, it doesn't seem as though Lexa has a strong influence on the Ice nation.”

“Let's not worry about things that are out of our control,” Kane says soothingly, brushing his fingers lightly over the back of Abby's hand.

Clarke is surprised at the intimacy of her mother and Kane's interaction; they rarely saw eye to eye when they were both on the council on the Ark and their committed personalities had led them to cross swords regularly. However, it seems as though the recent events have brought them closer. Clarke doesn't want to contemplate the mixed feelings this ignites in her, now is not the time for that, there is still so much to do.

“We need a new Chancellor. Which one of you two is it going to be?” She asks her mother and Kane.

The two former members of the Council look at each other, Kane nods and Abby faces Clarke again to answer, “Marcus is our new Chancellor; he's a better fit for that than I am, that's why we had the election in the first place. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on the grounders we just freed from prison.” The doctor's face grows more authoritative as she speaks again. “Clarke, don't think I didn't notice your wincing when I touched your back. Come by the infirmary before leaving for Mount Weather,” she instructs before walking out of the refectory, not bothering to wait for Clarke's confirmation.

Movement near the kitchen draws Clarke's eyes; Miller and another young soldier she doesn't know step out of the cold chamber with an empty stretcher. The man looks resentful as his teary eyes fall on her, Miller puts a comforting hand on his back, whispers something in his ear, and they both walk away. A chill runs down Clarke's spine when she understands that they probably carried Pike's body to the cold chamber, and the young soldier must have been on farm station. She knows she'll have to deal with the guilt of that murder at some point but that's another thing she has to sweep under the rug for now.

Clarke focuses back on Kane. “How many people are there inside Mount Weather?” She asks.

“Sixteen. Bellamy is in charge of the compound, it won't be easy to convince him to surrender and let us in; Pike had rallied him to his offensive point of view, made him his second in command.”

“Bellamy has always been driven to do whatever is necessary to ensure the survival of the people he feels responsible for,” Clarke tells Kane. “That's what he thinks he's doing but he'll come around. He'll listen to his sister; he'll listen to all of us,” she says confidently. _He has to._

Raven steps in the refectory and walks up to the new Chancellor and Clarke with a slight limp.

“Okay, I did what I could, with the limited time you were willing to give me,” she informs Kane. “But if you could tell the idiots who usually drive these vehicles that they aren't in a video game, that'd be great. I'll bring my tools and my guys in case we run into a problem.”

“Thank you, Raven,” Kane says gratefully. “I'll be sure to pass on the message to the drivers,” he adds, slightly lifting up one corner of his mouth in an amused smile.

Raven looks at Clarke, gives her a cool nod of acknowledgment and leaves. She knew some people wouldn't forgive her abandoning her people for so long easily, and her relationship with Raven was already complicated before she'd left Arkadia; she'll have to clear the air with the young mechanic when all of this settles.

“We'll be ready to move soon, Clarke,” Kane says. “You should go to the infirmary, like your mother asked you to, we'll have plenty of time to discuss the plan for getting inside Mount Weather during the ride there.”

Clarke would rather avoid what she fears might become a confrontation; she just wants to leave for Mount Weather and get this over with, but she feels she owes, at the very least, this one small thing to her mother, so she heads for the medical section.

Walking into the busy infirmary, Clarke is surprised to see almost every bed and chair occupied by a wounded or ill grounder; some of them clearly in critical condition, many of the others not far removed from there. Things really have spiraled down under the former Chancellor's authority. What she is seeing angers her and momentarily lessens the guilt she feels over killing Pike.

“Clarke, come here,” her mother calls out, drawing a stool close and placing it next to the one she is sitting on.

The blonde woman obeys. She takes off her jacket and shirt and sits down while her mother pulls a medical trolley closer.

“Oh my God, Clarke! What happened?” Abby asks horrified, running her fingers along the sides of her daughter's wound.

The young woman flinches, both at the contact on the still sensitive skin and at the thought of how her mother would react if she told her she hunted a Panther on purpose. “I got attacked by a Panther,” she chooses to answer. Incomplete, but true.

“And you were just waiting for it to get infected?” The doctor asks reproachfully. “You should know better than to let such a wound fester without properly disinfecting and bandaging it, Clarke. I taught you better.”

“Someone helped me clean it up,” Clarke answers defensively. She survived on her own in the wilderness for months and would have kept on doing so if it weren't for Lexa's visit this morning. Being lectured like a child annoys her. “People down here don't bother disinfecting everything, all the time. It's just a scratch.”

Her mother stops talking and starts working on the wound. An awkward silence falls between the two Griffin women, neither of them knowing how to initiate the conversation they both want and dread at the same time.

Clarke breaks the silence first. “How are the grounders? Will they be okay?” She asks.

“Most of them should recover, but I'm worried about a couple of the most critical cases. Pike didn't want them to get any medicine, to save that for our own. Marcus's people managed to pass us some while we were imprisoned, but not nearly enough.” Abby puts down the cotton wool and disinfectant back on the trolley, and retrieves some sterile gauze and plaster from a drawer before working on bandaging the now clean wound.

“I'm not sure how much longer they could have held on,” she continues. “You achieved something important tonight, Clarke. Your father would be so proud of what you accomplished,” Abby says emotionally, placing the last strip of plaster to hold the bandage in place before taking her latex gloves off and tossing them in a nearby trash can. “Except for what happened to Charles,” she softly adds.

Clarke tries to push back the pang of guilt her mother's words have elicited in her.

“I didn't have a choice, mom,” she defends, turning around on the stool to face her mother.

“I know, sweetie. Marcus told me what happened,” Abby says sympathetically. “I'm just worried for you. Since you've landed on this planet, you've had to kill a lot of people, I understand that, but it should always be a last resort, it shouldn't become easy.”

“What are you afraid of, Mom? That I'm becoming a remorseless, cold-blooded killer?” Clarke asks in a hurt tone. Having her own fears expressed back to her by her mother is the last thing Clarke needs right now.

“Of course not, Clarke. That's not what I meant,” Abby answers earnestly. “What I'm trying to say is that I'm noticing that every time something like this happens, the Commander is part of the equation. I worry about the influence she has on you. We may live on the ground but it doesn't mean we have to act like grounders. They have their set of rules, and we have ours. I don't want you to lose sight of who you are.”

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things,” Clarke says somberly but with determination.

“That sounds awfully like something the Commander would say.”

“Actually, Bellamy said that. But yes, Lexa could have said it too. It's not about being influenced by people, it's about adapting to life on the ground,” Clarke says, standing up and putting her shirt and jacket back on. “I'm still me, Mom, and don't worry, killing is not getting any easier,” she adds. “I had to protect our only chance of getting peace.”

“Do you really trust the Commander?” The former Chancellor asks.

“I do,” Clarke answers. Before Lexa's betrayal, she had come to see the Commander as a visionary; one whose desire to bring peace to the lands under her leadership compelled her to try and temper her people's brutal ways. And as conflicted as she feels about admitting this, in Lexa's place, many other people would have acted on one of the opportunities she's had to kill them all. But Clarke is wary of trusting the Commander based on that, as it had led her to be blindsided in the past. The one thing she knows for sure about the grounder leader is that she'll always want to do what's best for her people. Getting rid of Mount Weather without a fight, having the Sky people swear allegiance to her, reinforcing her fragile position as the Commander in the process; all of this is in Lexa's people's best interest. Clarke tries to ignore the other, completely unreliable reason for her trusting the grounder; her instincts.

“Good. Because we're putting everything we have on her,” Abby says gravely.

“I know.” That concern hasn't left her mind ever since she decided to ally with Lexa again, but there's nothing else to do now but hope she hasn't been wrong in trusting the Commander, and carry through with the plan.

“That someone, who helped you clean up your wound, was it her?” Abby asks apprehensively. “Did you spend those months with her?”

Clarke furrows her brow in confusion.

“Lexa,” Abby clarifies.

“Of course not!” Clarke protests. “Why the hell would you even think that?” She asks vehemently.

“Language, Clarke. No need to get defensive; I just want to know what you've been up to since you left, you're my daughter. And there's no need to lie to me either.”

“I'm not lying,” Clarke replies.

“Are you saying it's a coincidence that you happened to come back the very same day the Commander shows up here?” Abby questions incredulously.

“No, it's not a coincidence,” Clarke admits. She doesn't feel like going into the details right now, especially since things aren't even that clear to her. There are more urgent matters to take care of. “We'll talk about all that later, I promise, but the convoy should be ready to leave, now; I've got to go. Are you coming with us to Mount Weather?”

“I can't. I have to take care of my patients. Be safe, Clarke,” Abby says, her voice laced with concern.

“I will,” Clarke promises, walking out of the infirmary. _I'll try_ , she corrects inwardly.

 

* * *

 

After hours spent locked up in a cell, with death as her only prospect, Lexa feels exhilarated by their gallop through the woods. Jared had been waiting just out of sight of Arkadia, like she expected, and is now leading the way, while Lincoln and Octavia are riding beside her, the cloudless night and the full moon providing them more than enough visibility to speed down the broad path leading to the camp.

Today has been a whirlwind of emotions for Lexa. Last night had been the first serene night she's had in a long time, but since this morning, things have been a lot more hectic. From cautious hope of having a chance to diffuse the situation to having that hope obliterated by the Chancellor, to finally having it reignited by Clarke and her people. How the hatred she saw in the woman's expressive blue eyes this morning as she was considering killing Lexa changed to the much softer expression they'd taken on during the quiet moment they'd shared right after Clarke saved her life. For a brief instant, it had seemed like all the hurt of the last few months had vanished. For a brief instant, they had experienced again the deep connection that had developed between them before Mount Weather; the one Lexa had missed so much, the one that had haunted her thoughts and dreams; the one she thought was lost forever.

The Commander chastises herself for letting her mind drift like this. With everything that's at stake, she can't let herself get distracted by her personal feelings, not yet. For now she has to focus on preventing a war.

When she left Polis with her escort, Lexa had pondered her limited options to deal with the explosive situation; she knew she had to try to reason with the Skaikru leaders and that Clarke could help her with that, but at first, she had been reluctant to bring the blonde woman into this. Pushing her selfish worries aside and walking to the small lake to find Clarke this morning had clearly been the best course of action, though, because without her, Lexa would be dead now, and hundreds of people would have followed her to the grave in the war that would have ensued.

Lexa has been a Commander for too long, seen too many situations spiral down unexpectedly, to believe that things are completely under control, but Clarke managed to breach the wall between their people.

Riding between a Trikru man wearing Skaikru clothes and a Skaikru woman dressed as Trikru, Lexa can't deny that some people hadn't needed that, but they are rare exceptions.

Indra told her a bit about Octavia; strong-minded, brave, loyal, proud, and obstinate; the usually taciturn general had been full of praise for her former second. She must have seen great potential in the Skaikru woman to choose her for the position, over all of the worthy candidates lining up to serve under the command of the widely respected war chief.

“Heda!” Jared's short urgent call instantly puts Lexa on alert, and she looks in the direction toward which her scout is pointing; smoke is rising from the tree-tops in the distance. _This can't be good_. A fire big enough to produce so much smoke can't be coming from a hunters' or travelers' camp, and there are no villages in that area, nothing for miles and miles, except for her escort's camp which is still a little too far away to be where this smoke is coming from. Her first impulse is to make her horse speed up, to see what this is as fast as possible, but she can't take risks, not today, not now. Whatever this is, it calls for caution, so instead, she slows down her mount to a walk. Octavia and Lincoln do the same while Jared's agile horse barely slows down as he jumps off the path and rushes through dense woods, quickly disappearing from view.

“Is that coming from your camp?” Octavia asks.

“No,” Lexa simply answers, drawing her sword, immediately imitated by her two comrades. If the warriors of her escort are still alive, they must have seen this and investigated it; she thinks to herself. Of course, there's also a risk that this is a trap and they're already dead, she worriedly contemplates, tightening her grip on the sword's handle.

The trio progresses at a much slower pace, scanning the woods surrounding them, listening intently for any rustling of leaves or any other sound that could be warning of an imminent attack. The light provided by the full moon, the one they found so convenient just a minute ago, makes them feel exposed now. Lexa is considering leaving the path to seek cover in the forest when they hear a horse galloping down the path towards them. She recognizes from a distance the distinctive silhouette and posture of the man she's known her whole life and whispers _“Jared”_ for the benefit of Lincoln and Octavia who had tensed as soon as they had heard the rider. As Jared gets closer, Lexa tries to read the stoic man's face for clues on what is happening but all she can see, with some relief, is that he's unharmed.

“Safe,” is all he says as he turns his horse around in front of Lexa, taking the lead again.

That's all she needs to put her sword back in its sheath and urge her horse to a gallop. As they near the origin of the smoke, Lexa finally spots two of her scouts hidden in the trees and is reassured by the sight. The relief is short-lived, though, as a turn of the road brings into view a small clearing with the rest of her escort gathered around a pyre taking away six bodies wrapped in cloth.

The four of them dismount and Indra stomps in their direction, riveting furious eyes on Lincoln.

“How dare you wear this here?” She spits in Trigedasleng through gritted teeth, indicating his Skaikru jacket with a short jerk of her head.

Faces turn away from the pyre to stare angrily at Lincoln and Octavia, making Lexa understand that whatever has happened, it has something to do with Skaikru. And it will make an already complicated situation even worse.

“They both are under my protection,” she shouts authoritatively to be sure to be heard over the crackling fire. “And I will personally execute anyone who attempts to harm them.”

Reassured that her message has been understood by her warriors who silently turn back to look at the flames, Lexa focuses her attention on Indra.

“What happened?” She asks her general hurriedly.

“They,” Indra points at the emblem on Lincoln's jacket, “attacked us.”

“How?” The Commander presses.

“Acid fog,” Indra says.

Lexa turns to Octavia. “I thought it didn't work anymore.”

“It didn't, Bellamy destroyed it,” the Skaikru woman answers incredulously. “Those morons must have repaired it somehow.”

“It took us by surprise; we thought that threat was gone,” Indra continues. “Scouts raised the alarm but not everyone managed to get out of the fog's reach in time.”

The general leans closer to her leader.

“This is an act of war, Commander, the last one of too many.”

“I am the judge of that, Indra,” Lexa says coldly. She can definitely see Indra's point, a part of her wants nothing more than to react to this provocation, avenge the death of her warriors; _blood must have blood_. But she can't let what happened here ruin the significant progress towards peace they made at Arkadia.

“Commander, those murders must be answered,” Indra insists.

“And they will,” Lexa assures.

“Commander,” Octavia intervenes, “they didn't know about Skaikru joining the Coalition. They saw your camp as a threat. They probably just wanted to scare your people, not kill them. I know this doesn't make it okay, far from it, but they shouldn't die for a stupid mistake.”

“Mistake!” Indra rages. “The cowardly murder of six of my warriors, that's what you call a mistake?”

“Enough! Both of you,” Lexa orders, raising her voice, her eyes going from one woman to the other. “There will be consequences for what occurred here, but that's not the most pressing issue we have to deal with.”

The Commander turns to her general, “Indra, as soon as the funeral ceremony is over, I want you to send emissaries to raise up an army from the nearby villages. They are to set up camp near Arkadia.” Lexa glares at Octavia who had started to open her mouth to intervene. “For Skaikru's protection,” she clarifies before turning her attention back to Indra. “Lincoln will go with them, to act as liaison; make sure everyone knows I lifted the kill order on him. Then you'll take the rest of the escort and go to the Azgeda border. Skaikru is going to destroy Mount Weather, thereby joining the Coalition and becoming the Thirteenth Clan. As such, they must be protected from _any_ attack. Tell Queen Nia that if she crosses the border, she'll have the Coalition army to deal with.”

“Commander! That's not...” Indra begins.

“You have your orders, Indra,” Lexa interrupts briskly. “Unless you think me unfit to command?” She asks with a challenge in her eyes and her tone. The two women hold each others' gaze a moment, until the general bends her head and storms away.

The impetuous Trikru war chief has always been quick to react and express her opinions when she disagreed with the Commander, but there's never been a doubt in Lexa's mind about Indra's loyalty. She wouldn't trust any of her other generals to carry out this complicated mission.

“What did you mean exactly when you said that there would be consequences for what occurred here?” Octavia asks warily.

“Octavia, don't,” Lincoln warns, resting a hand on the brunette's shoulder.

Lexa fights the exasperated sigh threatening to escape her lips. She feels like she's fighting on two fronts and she is getting tired of it. Indra softened the truth when she told her Octavia was obstinate; she can see why the young Skaikru woman and her general got along.

“Like I said there are more urgent matters to take care of, Octavia. For now, it's your whole people's fate that's at stake.”

“Just like your people's,” Octavia replies boldly. “We both know you wouldn't be offering us peace if you could take care of this threat on your own without bloodshed. And we both know I'll play a big part in making my brother open that damn door. I don't want it to be so that he gets killed. Or any of the people who are inside the mountain with him. I'm asking you to show mercy for what happened with the acid fog.”

Lexa is not used to being pressured this way, and she doesn't like it one bit, but if what Clarke told her about the relationship between Octavia and her brother is true, her help will be invaluable.

_Peace proves to demand much more work than war, though_.

“They won't be killed,” she concedes, hoping she'll be able to keep that promise, before joining her warriors around the pyre.

 

* * *

 

Pacing back and forth, watching Raven and a few others work frenetically on an old truck, Clarke regrets not having paid more attention when her father tried to teach her some basic mechanics. They've been stuck in the middle of a dusty road for an hour now, ever since dark smoke started escaping the truck's hood, forcing the driver to stop. Clarke figures they must have about an hour to go before they arrive at Mount Weather and this forced stop is starting to get on her nerves; not being able to do anything about it making it worse.

At least, this had given the time for Lexa to return, with two of her warriors, including the one Clarke had seen with her this morning by the lake, and also accompanied by Octavia. The Commander had related to her what happened at her camp, how the people inside Mount Weather had reactivated the acid fog, making Clarke's eagerness to arrive there as soon as possible even more pressing. One more snag in their far from perfect plan and war will be unavoidable. And all of this would have been for nothing; leaving the quietness of her exile, allying with Lexa, convincing her people to try and reach peace with the grounders. _Killing Pike._ Clarke swallows back the lump forming in her throat. _This has to work;_ she keeps repeating to herself worriedly.

“Clarke, we need to talk,” Octavia says, stopping in front of her.

“What is it?” Clarke asks absentmindedly, still pacing, her eyes never leaving the truck.

“It's about the Commander, and my brother. She said she would spare his life, as well as the ones of the other people inside Mount Weather, but I don't believe her. She wants me to convince Bellamy to open the door and I think she would say anything for that. But you can talk to her; she listens to you,” Octavia pleads.

“Hardly,” Clarke answers with a snort, scrutinizing Raven's body language to get an idea of her progress with the repairs; still some way to go judging by the frustrated grimace on the mechanic's face.

Octavia grabs her arms, forcing Clarke to stop her pacing and face her. “Is it too much to ask to have your undivided attention for a minute, Clarke?” She asks angrily. “Bellamy saved your ass in the past, all of our asses, don't you think he deserves a bit more than that? Don't you care?”

“I'm sorry, Octavia,” Clarke apologizes. “I do care. A lot. That's why I'm so worried we'll get there too late. But my point still stands, Lexa doesn't listen to me. If anything, I listen to her more than I should.” Her mother's words are still echoing in her head.

“She does listen to you, Clarke. The fact that I'm still alive is a clear proof of that.”

Clarke can't hide her surprise. _How had Octavia gotten word of that?_

“Yeah, I know Lexa tried to kill me after Ton DC; seconds see a lot more than you leaders think, and I know you're the one who convinced her not to. You have to try to get her to pardon them. Or at least find out if she's been honest when she said she would spare them. Please, Clarke.”

“You're overestimating my influence on Lexa, but you're right, I have to try,” Clarke concedes.

After the unsettling moment they shared at Arkadia, her plan was to avoid any unnecessary contact with the green eyed grounder, but this qualifies as necessary, so she reluctantly leaves the area where the truck is being repaired, casting one last glance to Raven's crew, and heads towards the three grounders.

The Commander is sitting on a rock, eating a piece of bread while her warriors stand guard behind her. Their horses, covered in white sweat, are quietly grazing grass on the side of the road.

Clarke is surprised by the lack of reaction from the guards as she walks to their charge; unlike every time before, they don't take a step forward, or menacingly put their hands on their sword pommel. They don't even straighten up when she sits on the rock beside the Commander. She wonders if Lexa gave them specific orders.

“Your horses seem to need some rest,” Clarke begins. “You and your men should ride on one of the vehicles for the remainder of the trip. We're leaving our horses here too, and we'll pick them up on our way back. It'll be a little cramped once we get Mount Weather's supplies, but we'll get there faster.”

Lexa splits her bread into two and offers one half to Clarke. The blonde woman's first impulse is to refuse, but her stomach chooses this moment to remind her she hasn't eaten all day with a loud growl, so she mouths a thank you and accepts the piece of bread gratefully.

Taking her first bite, Clarke holds back a moan; she hadn't realized how hungry she was and ever since the first time she's had some at the trading post, she's grown fond of grounder bread. The crispy crust and soft brown crumb sprinkled with various seeds releasing their aroma as she crushes them between her teeth. Nothing like the bland bread they 'd had on the Ark.

Sensing Lexa's eyes on her, she turns her head to look at the grounder who is wearing a hint of a smile and has an amused gleam in her eyes. Her appreciation might have shown, Clarke realizes. She hopes she at least did manage to hold back that moan, but the surprise of seeing the ever-serious grounder look so relaxed, almost happy, makes her forget her embarrassment. Being the Commander probably doesn't give many opportunities to smile, or even allow it. Clarke had always assumed Lexa was several years older than her, but in that instant, she's not so sure anymore. She suddenly wonders how old she was when she became Commander. From the conversations they've had, Clarke got the impression that the grounder has been in the position for years and years, but if Lexa is about the same age as her, it couldn't have been that long ago. Surely, so much responsibility wasn't put on a child's shoulders, was it? Clarke finds herself wanting nothing more than find out the answers to those questions, learn more about Lexa, about what she's been through, but her line of thought is interrupted as the Commander's face grows serious again and she breaks eye contact.

“Are you that sure it will be faster, Clarke?” Lexa asks, looking at the truck from under which they can hear Raven's curses, before unscrewing her canteen and drinking from it.

“Raven's on it, she and her team will have it fixed soon,” Clarke assures, trying to convince herself as much as Lexa.

“Very well, then.” Lexa hands her her canteen, Clarke takes it and washes down the hearty bread with a few gulps of water, before giving it back to the Commander.

She feels strangely reluctant to disrupt this quiet moment, one of the rare ones she's had today, but they could be leaving any minute, this can't wait.

“Octavia told me you promised her to spare my people's lives,” Clarke says. “The ones inside the mountain. Did you just say that to reassure her, make sure she cooperates, or were you being honest?”

Lexa doesn't answer right away, for a moment she just stares into Clarke's eyes, seeming to ponder her answer.

“It is getting harder and harder to find excuses for some of your people, Clarke,” the Commander finally answers. “If it weren't for the peace treaty we are trying to put in place, and for the untimely agitation it might cause were I to execute them, I wouldn't even consider mercy.”

“They don't know about the recent developments in Skaikru's position regarding the Coalition.”

“That doesn't change the fact that six of my warriors are dead, Clarke. Warriors I handpicked myself, among my most trusted ones, for this delicate _diplomatic_ mission. Killed by the acid fog, no less. Your people there went to the trouble of repairing one of the mountain men's weapons. This is serious.”

“I know it is,” Clarke admits, looking in the direction of Mount Weather. _What has gotten into Bellamy? Why would they do something so stupid?_

“I've thought about the timeline,” Lexa continues. “The acid fog must have been released not long after I arrived at Arkadia. It's very likely that your former Chancellor guessed I came with an escort, tracked them down, and gave the order to send the veil. At least, that's what I'm counting on to avoid your people's executions. Punishments are less brutal for those who follow an order than for those who act on their own accord.”

“Thank you, Lexa,” Clarke says gratefully.

“You do realize I can't guarantee you they'll live, though, don't you, Clarke? There are too many unknowns, and there's only so much I can do.”

“You're the commander, you have the power to grant them immunity,” Clarke insists.

“You of all people should know leaders can't do anything they want and get away with it, Clarke.”

_Pike_. An image of the bald man's head jerking backwards as the bullet hit him flashes in front of Clarke's eyes. Is she damned to be haunted by all the people she killed? She probably deserves it.

The feeling of Lexa's knee initiating contact with hers brings her out of her gloomy state of mind.

“You did what you had to do, Clarke,” Lexa softly says, leaning closer and lowering her voice. “Just like my people would be right to kill me if I were to put them in danger. Crossing the line between mercy and weakness _would_ put them at risk. That's the line I can't and won't cross. And I'm already dangerously close to it.”

Clarke looks down at their joined knees. How come such a simple touch can calm her down so effectively? Why is hating Lexa feeling more forced with each of their encounters? It's probably just the tiredness, she rationalizes. It has been a stressful day. That must also be the reason why a part of her wants to accept Lexa's comforting, but she knows the hurt letting her guard down around the grounder can bring so she breaks the contact.

“We just have to get to Mount Weather before something else happens, then,” Clarke says standing up.

Lexa nods and Clarke swiftly walks away, back to the damaged truck, where Raven is exhibiting a proud smile as she speaks with Marcus Kane.

“It's done,” she tells Clarke as soon as she gets within earshot.

“Great,” the blonde answers with relief.

Under the new Chancellor's orders, the convoy comes back to life; people who had taken this opportunity to take a nap wake up, the ones who had been eating finish up their plates promptly, and everyone climb into the vehicles, leaving the horses with a guard. Kane invites Lexa and her guards to share a jeep with him and signals Clarke to join them. The blonde woman dutifully ignores him and gets inside the first jeep she finds with a driver but no passengers. Octavia, coming out of nowhere, follows her into the vehicle and closes the door behind her.

“What did she say?” The brunette asks fervently.

“Basically, that she'll do what she can. We'd better hope your brother and the others acted under Pike's command, though. Or, at least they manage to convince everyone they did.”

“Bellamy better manage to convince me first,” Octavia says sternly. “Anyway,” she adds in a lighter tone, as she settles more comfortably into the leather seat, resting her feet on the armrest between the driver and front passenger seat. “Tell me, Clarke, what happened to you during the last few months?”


End file.
